When the Divine Conductor calls me home ...

... found in the journal of a deceased railroad conductor

And when I feel my engine swerve, as o'er strange rails we fare.

I strain my eyes around the curve of what awaits me there.

When swift and free she carries me, through yards unknown at night.

I look along the lines to see, that all the lamps are white. 

A blue light marks a crippled car, the green light signals -- slow.

The red light is a danger light, the white light, "let us go."

Again the open fields we roam, and when the night is fair.

I look up in the starry dome and wonder, what's up there?

For who can speak for those who dwell, behind the curving sky?

No one has ever lived to tell, just what it means to die. 

Swift towards life's terminal I trend, the run seems short tonight.

God only knows what's at the end, I hope the lights are white.

-Cy Weisman, Engineer