The sun bakes as we make our way South toward Goa
The train a mere shadow of its former glory
The staff bow and scrape, as in colonial times,
But my heart breaks knowing they have nothing.
Westerners come to this place to get lost-
escape from the pressures of life in the Real World.
The world of education and responsibility
A world we have adopted as our own - time.
Time is what is needed, and here there is plenty
Time to get to know their names, what makes them smile
Where they come from, and where they are headed
Time to show them The Way, this is what we have here.
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