Roadtrip

The road ahead goes on for eternity.
At least that’s what I’m imagining.

My whole body moves while the world stands still.

If I just close my eyes. . . I could forget where I am. . .
I could pretend that I’m flying.

The ups and downs of the road draw mountains and hills.

And behind my closed eyes, I could create
a world,
the old world,
as it was in the beginning.

Because the wind wiped all traces of
change and destruction.

And the sound of the engine?
I pretend to be roars of the waves at sea.

And then. . .

I’ll open my eyes and stare at the clouds.

Stare, and stare, and stare some more.
Until . . .
instead of the scripted and twisted versions of reality
we are so fond of right now. . .

From my own mind, that only I can see,
clouds are deciphered and shaped,
recreating the innocence of all that’s living.

And lastly. . .

The twinkling of lights, in my eyes, are fallen stars,
barren of the fact that with the light. . .
comes the heat.

And they are. . .
just light.

Bright,
with no meaning,

Beautiful,
with no feelings.

___

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October 2013
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