Travellers All

In transit like this, a millon thoughts
hit me all at once, so many senses
touched in the same instant, faces
that pass in the airport: so intense,
the moment so transient, passing
from Europe to the Middle East.

And there is a representative from every
continent on either side as I pass through,
several different languages at the bar,
and five or six in the smoking room.
There are smells from around the world
drifting from the restaurant, and I’m entranced.

Stunned by the goings-on around me,
I feel like an invisible thief, stealing moments
and fragments of conversations, a tourist
perennially passing through Schiphol,
delighting in each new face and intonation,
at the world-scope of this port, it’s spectrum.

There is some feeling of family about travel,
we are all heading for the same ending
whether we like this fact or not, the box
in the ground, heaven or even hell is the
end result, but here on earth we exist
as one, each striving for the other together.

And this airport feels very much the same,
as temporarily I forget my own name in the
mass of activity, the hive of possibility that is
this clustering of humanity, an epic spectacle,
a dramatic scene, this magnificent gathering,
in the noble act of exploring our world.

We are one now, as we pass each other,
some may stare but we’re gathered here
for precisely the same purpose, business
or pleasure we’re after the same thing,
wishing to travel to another country,
our calling, our occupation,
our rest and relaxation.

JRTF
17/08/13