6.26.2016

ROADLOG: THE ROAD

ROADLOG: THE ROAD
There's something so simple
And magical
And meditative 
About the road. 
That black stripe
That divides 
The distance. 
Soon as one crosses
A state line,
All those petty, trivial things
That were driving you mad
Disappear. 
They slowly fade 
Into the background,
Blowing away like plastic trash. 
Something about the open spaces,
Away from the electromagnetic scramble
Of the cities,
Allows one to think more clearly 
And untangle the HAARP goop
And confusion 
And indecision 
From your mind. 
Away from the Sturm und Drang
Of the cities 
Your ideas have space to bloom
And play 
And make mistakes 
Without an audience
Of humanoids,
Looking to put you 
On a cross 
For making a U-turn
In midday traffic
Because you missed your turn. 
Even your heart
Which is like 
A pin cushion 
Needled from every direction 
By every sort of stimuli 
Within the confines
Of the city,
Has the tranquil asylum 
Of nature and open space
To heal,
Recharge,
Reset,
And grow. 
There's something calming
About being able to see 
10 miles into the distance
As opposed 
To five feet in front 
Of you.
It may be a mountain
You never climb. 
But it's there. 
And you're here. 
And you can look at it. 
And you have 
Something to aspire to 
Outside of the systemic 
Money hustle greed 
Slave-whoring program
They got in place 
For you
Until you die
As you grind 
Through the piecemeal 
Of your days,
Sweating,
Staring out at one another,
Exhausted,
Emotionally scarred,
Broke, 
Suppressing an array of insecurities
And mildly crippling fears,
And just waiting 
For those tiny moments
When the little fracked & cracked window 
Of your heart opens up
So you can feel love 
For other people again...
Just for a few minutes
And forget about 
The narcissistic needs
Of your own bullshit.  
Just for a few minutes. 
A mountain is good for that. 
Even if you never climb it. 

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