There will come a time when the road will beckon you
like the outstretched hand of a lover
leading you on a new adventure.
When roaming will feel like home and untethered feels like centered –
let motion be your mentor and your guide.
Let it teach you how to ride the tide of time
and go through life like you flow through rhyme.
Let motion show you how to let that shit go
like apple cores tossed out rolled down windows –
that shit doesn’t serve you anymore.
Let motion show you all the old stories you hold to;
they no longer translate in this new landscape –
you are not drowning, you are up in the mountains now.
Let the glacial formations be an inspiration, a reminder that desolation begets majesty,
ice age begets beauty – your only duty is to have faith in this process.
I’ll be honest: the adventure isn’t all sublime.
There will be times when gas tanks flash empty and you’re nowhere near a station,
or when the silence causes rumination so repetitive
it feels like you’re driving in circles and circles,
when you get so distracted by the blues and the purples
of the mountains that you lose your way, forget what day it is,
forget who you are… so far from where you came from.
You had a name some time ago; it had a sound.
It had a ring to it, but things would stick to it, and you were stuck with it –
and you were stuck.
But now the only thing stuck is your foot on the gas pedal,
days passing as you revel in this newfound mobility,
this ability to glide through life without missing it – there is a bliss in this.
To exist like this. No name, no story, just being. Breathing. Heart beating.
Every moment is fleeting and you are succeeding in moving readily, steadily forward.
You are undeniably, finally moving.
