Cycling
Drive, cycle, move,
endless motion forward
through the abandoned urban paths
in the dark hours between the days.
My wheels keep crushing sand,
with the image of the tackled wrack,
once called future.
What choice is left for them,
but to touch people’s disregard
and constantly continue to more?
Undertow of music accompanies my thoughts,
fill the stuffiness with oppressing cyclones.
Suggesting the intangible,
and expressing the grief
from every notion attached to it…
Continue, the infinite motion;
forward, backwards,
it makes no matter…
Just escape faithlessness
in perpetual motion,
Cycle, drive, move on, and on…
and on…
and on…