Painted tide

The Train Derails to Dementia

God switches on the light of life;
It begins to flicker
As systems get ready.
Memory bank to infinity.
Seeds begin to sprout.
The journey has begun on the subway.
As we grow we pick up loved ones and friends
Like lanterns that we will let go
To be stored at the back of the library,
Only to be re-read when we are older.
The money tree branches out
And we must pick a path
On route to an unknown destination.
We will pick up more people and acquaintances
And these will hover around
For us to stumble over and meet again.
This will go on, station by station. 
For some the tunnel will come to an end;
For some it will lead to love,
For some it will lead to riches,
For some it will lead to a sad and lonely place
And some will stay on the same ride,
Never to step off.
Every rollercoaster will have a bumpy ride
And you may get off the ride as you please
In search of a new adventure.
There are so many infinite probabilities
We cannot compute them.
By now we are half to three-quarters of the way on our journey.
The friends we have now are statues
Set in stone.
They will stand there as we need them.
But for some, the bridleway will become
cracked.
This rocket derails into space.
Our thoughts begin to fade.
We drown slowly.
One by one they go like ghosts.
All that is left are the faces
Of the ones we cherished
And the pile of books
We left at the back of the library.
Only a black thunderstorm with flashing lights remains,
Which are flashbacks from the library.
This circuit repeats itself
Over and over again.
Where that person once sat,
A waxwork model sits instead.