My dearly beloved, bullet train

I was arrested in car number twelve

From Osaka to Tokyo

You had me at train now departing

I’ve committed to memory

Your clean blue and white lines

They remind me of calmness

And I sat transfixed

As Japan rushed me by

As if handmade, hand sculpted, hand nurtured

By an artist with the most loving caresses

Your countryside embellished

With farms of both rice paddies

And the photovoltaic variety

Greenhouses stitching them together

Your cities vibrant and technicolour

Advertisements of character

Tied in ribbons of rivers lined with sakura

And your mountains stood misty

Hooded and strong in a mask of green

Trees to protect what I know must be true

The earth is beloved, and held room in its heart for bullet trains and dreaminess

My own pulsed and resounded

To the rhythm of your topography

Keeping time with your wind speeds

There was no justice in photography

So I drank instead with my eyes

That I used as I wept to the sunset



I am patient zero, catching dream sequences at speeds exceeding three hundred kilometres per hour

My heart does not race

It sings, trembling

For the way the world looks back into me

The high speed whistle soothes

Tunnels blanket me

And window side I catch glimpses of unspeakable scenes:

The trees are serene

The rivers are gentle

The countryside need not scream

For me to listen

To its topography

The land on which I’ve roamed my wearied feet

My shoes worn to the world

I find instead the earth singing back

Each valley a blessing

Each bridge a prayer