sometimes you think about a time you were content and you realize you were so so afraid all the time?
and you are afraid now for what is coming for that contented self?
riding under a dark bridge
in the long green terrible summer
far from home,
never wanting to go back,
wanting to be lost,
fearing I will be lost forever.
every mile empty but
me and the trees and white cement.
sun watching eye from high and I
hide, every bridge a shelter,
and every shelter a trap,
and every trap a home
that I will live in until
the spiral of the universe
finishes finally winding in.
and the end of days is coming
and the end of nights is coming
and I do not know that I am so, so afraid
so I push my feet to the pedals,
and I stand up with the wind on my face,
and I ride