Oh Lord, which is the right vehicle
That leads to my destined place?
Decades ago, I took off in a three-wheeled carriage,
With my backpack piggybacked on my back,
I waved at standing passengers with ecstasy and fulfilment reeling through me,
For I took off before them all.
Even though they were all in wait
In more luxurious wheels.
On the road my eyes beheld vehicles:
One with a flat tyre.
Another filling his fuel tank.
A halted bike with its pedals broken.
Caring less or not at all
I looked and drove past.
Hitting a mainland bridge, to my sides
Were watercrafts with long wooden paddles,
Held firm unto by the paddlers,
Rowling them yaw as they know
Their next float rests on the shoulders of their rows.
I peeked out of my window,
Up into the sky filled with clouds,
Caught sight of the big bird up high—
A white-winged craft dodging potholes of nature.
Then I realized that we all embark
At our alarmed time,
And also alight when the time is right,
All in our most suitable carriage trains.
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