Mirrors of Heaven

Diamond raindrops are falling
on the empty train I'm riding,
and shimmer
as they run down the windows.

Myriads of streetlamps
makes the city look
like a starry sheet
of a thousand burning suns,
ordered into patterns
that cannot be seen from afar.

Soon, we travel
through a thick, black emptiness,
where towns are discernable
on a distance,
quiet and strange in their beauty,
like artificial pictures of the sky by night.

And then we arrive
to another station,
an island of activity and life
that cuts off the silence.

No one enters the train,
and a moment later
it's moving again,
through another stretch of night,
where cities mirror
the starlit heavens.