slowly hypnotized by the yellow lines,
and with so long to ride,
I can close my eyes,
to see birds pulling at the skin of road kill,
to see a twisted tree,
aflame in a burnt out field,
I can see an old man coughing,
a haggard, macabre cough,
trying to breathe through his tears,
trying to make sense now,
trying to find meaning,
to their preaching,
that life is beautiful,
a bonus,
when all he feels is alone in this,
in his thrownness,
through his tears he can see,
the credits rolling up,
for him, you and me,
I close my eyes to see,
...the rider.
4 comments:
A fine Johnny Cash theme.
...when the man comes around.
The rider will ride through my mind all day.
A man with no name, just being in time. Riding his way against the marginal frontier of epistemological cartography. Masterfully done.
alone as we all are
on this journey.
great piece H.P.
~robert
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