He sleeps, the weary traveller. Caught in the impersonal process of being moved As part of huge, faceless crowds From one destination to another… Across the world, across time, He tries, yet, to keep in touch With home, family, work, his life. His laptop is powered by a cord That is his umbilicus to the world. But, in spite of valiant efforts, The body protests: too little sleep, The very cells of his physical being Force him into closing his eyes, To recoup a little of the lost energy As he travels. The miracle of long-distance travel Is at work: but like all miracles, This one has a high cost, too.