He sleeps, the weary traveller.
Caught in the impersonal process of being moved
As part of huge, faceless crowds
From one destination to another...
Across the world, across time,
He tries, yet, to keep in touch
With home, family, work, his life.
His laptop is powered by a cord
That is his umbilicus to the world.
But, in spite of valiant efforts,
The body protests: too little sleep,
The very cells of his physical being
Force him into closing his eyes,
To recoup a little of the lost energy
As he travels. The miracle of long-distance travel
Is at work: but like all miracles,
This one has a high cost, too.