On the last bus to infinity

I draw my story with a kiddish crayon
on the walls of night
and narrate it to the shadows as I journey
on the last bus to infinity.
I look up to the horizon
at the lights that sparkle
like stars of the milky band
and wonder if there is a world
away from mine, the one
where all the fables are true
and whom darkness is now kissing good bye.
I am heading forlornly, at a higher speed
as if the engines of time recognized
the emergency of my thoughts
circumventing all the hurdles.