Monday, August 8, 2016

The Road

The road stretches out ahead of us,
Twin-laned type-writer ribbon
Untold story of a journey beyond,
Hyphenated paint separates us
As we unspool through
This particular enunciation
Of time and space.

Tap on accelerator pedal elicits
Deep-throated growl
From supercharged Jaguar
G-forces pin us to leather seats,
Temporary ecstasy
On this highway of broken dreams.

Like the Beats
All those years before us,
We take the
Long road south
The journey is what matters,
The destination only a footnote,
The freedom of the open road
Sustenance to parched souls.

Blue sky, infinite horizon,
Not a cloud in sight,
Engine hum and tyre roar
Bring to mind
Cormac McCarthy,
Sal Paradise and Dean Moriarty
Road-trips and continents past
Yester-year, and younger days,
A companionship
That's lasted decades.

12 gold stars on blue background
Shine at us
We fly across borders,
Leave Belgium behind
And breathe in the quixotic air
Of libertéégalitéfraternité.

Tractors toil on wheat fields,
A van-Gogh patchwork 
Of green, brown and olive
High above,
Slow-moving tripods
Slice through still air,
We tilt at our windmills,
Our own private daemons.

The sun, now low in the sky
Shines on yellow and violet,
Fields of exquisite beauty
A kaleidoscope of colour,
Sunflower and lilac.

What does it mean
To be alive 
In the year of our lord 2016?
We are men of science,
We tip our hat 
At the Big Bang,
Hell, we are prepared
To countenance 
A multi-verse 
With infinite storylines
And multiple versions of 
Our own reality.

But sometimes, science fails
To bring succour to troubled minds,
For times like these,
We have The Road,
An infinity ahead
Of tormented souls.

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