The long straight road

The zen of automobiles

I long for the infinite

Look to infinity:

That place where the horizon meets

The lip of the earth

Where sky eats its way into the oneness

I yearn for the long, straight road

Where you can gather pace

& merge into the sky

Almost flying

Through the barren winter landscape

Where everything is sodden & bare

Not me though – I am alive

Zooming through this picture

Of myself

Running from my true terror

Behind me, I leave but scatters

Debris from the hubris of my choices

My choices, you see I made them

Not my conditioning

Nor my upbringing

But the product of both

& that part of me that would always be me

essentially, biologically, without all the rest

Immaterial, so be it

Not everything can mate with matter

But to be immaterial would be to

Have no connection to the ancient mother

& what would anything ‘be’ if not from the

womb of the earth, the sun, the moon, the stars?

If not the womb of the universe then what?

What matters, is what is inside you truly

I cannot pretend to know the truth anymore

Than any other, for the ‘truth’ is only what we know it to be

Our truth, the truth of our soul

Gasping for meaning

& yet you glimpse it and it is gone

Here – now – gone

Like the very breath of the invisible

Was the very breath of the cosmos

And the breath of every living thing

Material and immaterial!