the wind trains

I hear the wind trains
passing in the night.
In the west, far away,
they’re travelling to the south.
Far away and never stopping.


In my youth, mesmeric wonders
glittered in my eyes, a congruence
of thoughts and dreams in blue and ochre,
and the leprechauns would let me
roam their fields of magic,
where the smallest effort would uncover
golden knowledge.


My mistakes were wordless thoughts
with a dash of cardiac arrest,
a hint of long-lost Andalusia.

The surface of the world
is as it always has been,
but the realm beneath,
where one might wander
in a stranger’s dreams,
has vanished.


We’re voyagers bound
between the earth and the sky,
driven by the wounds of living,
deceived by the stars at night
into thinking someone else
should wash the dishes.


I hear the wind trains
in the early hours.
One will stop,
and what was given me
will be taken back.


Ambisia is a study for the short story of the same name. The artwork was evolved with the visual evolution engine (VEE), my software that seeks unexpected realms, and CYNDE, cyclic nonlinear desaturation, rather than using standard AI techniques to mimic existing art. Ambisia was evolved from a photograph taken near Santos (Brazil).


17 thoughts on “the wind trains

    • Thank you, Sobhana. It’s a personal work, and the artwork, which is ostensibly for my story Ambisia, is also personal. Although, as you know, I am never specific.😸

  1. An affecting innocence and a sense of loss in this, Steve. A lovely poem. And we are all easily deceived into thinking someone else should wash the dishes!

    • Thanks, Jim. When I write about my life, to me, it always seems the same. On the other hand, you can’t change the past, I’m stuck with it.

      Yes, I knew that sense of self-importance well, unfortunately, but life has a way of teaching you better (a very painful way).

      WP is a bit of a nightmare, a lot has to do with my upgrade to a business account. I have been in touch with them and they’re working on it. Possibly. 👩‍💻 One example is that you don’t see my replies to comments under the bell (unless they fixed it).

  2. A lyrical piece tinged with nostalgia and regret. I like the metaphor of wind trains. That our lives run on tracks and that perhaps we don’t have much free choice after all. The big things that happen are often beyond our control. Steve, I love the way you mix the domestic with the mystic. Who washes the dishes indeed!

    • Thanks, Nikita. I am made of regrets, in fact, long ago, I was arrogant enough to think that washing the dishes was not for me. Life has taught me better, but I do have a dishwasher now at least.

      It’s great that you’ve published your book of poetry on Amazon, and thank you for providing the link. As you know, I’m a big fan of your work, and I’ve been visiting your blog for many years. It’s always a pleasure to read your poetry: well-crafted, powerful, stunningly honest, and yes, courageous. Mmm, I think I’ll write a review on Amazo. 😸

      Here is the link for anyone who might be interested:

      And I should mention your sobriquet (Lydia or Nikita) to avoid confusion. Or possibly create more. 😸 I have a few as well, but they’re not very plausible: Steve, Inconstant, Spin etc.

  3. This seems a little different from your other work or perhaps this is a continuation of the other work. It set a shiver down my spine, a poignant work of poignant landscapes and health conditions..

    • Thanks, Paul. We’re moving into a more stringent lockdown here in Sydney as the virus spreads, and it’s had an effect. At times I stand back and see my life in a harsh cold light. I don’t often spell it out in social media though, if at all. I prefer to soften reality. I may take up Pinot Grigio again (in moderation). That will help.😸

    • Thank you, Erik. This piece happened when I was contemplating my life. I felt it was dark, but I didn’t rewrite it. Although we can’t change the past, dreams and desires come and go, and I’m still inclined to chase after rainbows every now and then, seeking out wonders.

  4. I think we all have a few regrets if we are honest. But perhaps Edith Piaf had it right. We make choices to the best of our ability at the time and they make up our life story. Good and bad.
    Thanks for your support Steve and lovely comments about my new book, The Rush of Lava Flowers. 😊

    • True. I suppose there’s a balance. We learn and we change, and we can’t go back and redo. I do have a stack of regrets but I don’t dwell on them. Much. And yes, if we could change anything, the nature of time and causality means everything would change. When I was in my teens, my father used to say to me, “If only I knew what I know now when I was your age.” I still have no idea exactly what he meant, there were too many possibilities.😸

      You’re very welcome, Nikita.

  5. one of my favourite reads from your work Steve. Dreamy, melancholy yet grounding with a surreal energy. The thoughts of trains and winds give me the freedom to roam and feel a release from the mundane. Always a joy and wonder to visit your words.

    • Thank you, Gina. Childhood is a place where I go when reality leaves me cold. Back then, very early in the morning, if the wind was blowing in the right direction, you could hear the trains on the southern line.

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