Whirring

[crows]

My train gathers speed, approaching the mountain. I know my tunnel is nearing, and is as long as this ancient rock is deep. The light dims as we push further into the shadow, and my metaphorical itinerary grows ever more difficult to read. I know, however restless I may be, that no matter what happens after, I have to first exit the tunnel before I reach any of the destinations belong.

The darker it gets, the more rapidly I will move, and the quicker this will all come to me.