Nevertheless

Let me tell you about dawn
and the moment on the train
before it leaves.
The early sky outside, the silence.
There's the beep in the laptop
of a passenger beside me
and the beep of the doors
opening and closing;
the beep of the blinking lights
by the driver's seat
and the beep in the carriage
before the loudspeaker speaks;

electronic devices
we know well,
which some of us identify
with this post-whatever time
and an anonymity's hell,
automatic stages
of the normal workday
in its relentless pace,

nevertheless
let me just keep telling you about dawn
and this sky outside,
with its stare that's a presence.
And the beeps become small bells
in the memory of a monastery,
in the quiet before the quiet
chores of the daily hours.

So, dawn. Just let me tell you
of these instants
and their countenance
touching eternity
and defying circumstance.