Finds Roads

It curves and dips, sways and throbs, drops and rises, lives and dies in a cul-de-sac.

I found some wind to push across the side of my face. I suppose it found me as much as I found it, to be perfectly honest. The steering wheel is thick and ignorant beneath my palms. My foot finds its pedestal and stands at attention. We Move.

Driving purges me. It gives me a moment to let go of all those things that refuse to let go of Me. It entertains my fancy and allows me to be anywhere, in any time, and with anyone. Even if that someone happens to be me, or that time happens to be now, or that place happens to be here.

If the grand designer struggled itself out of the dirt before me and granted me one wish, to become one thing, one unending thing, be it a gust of wind, a ray of sunshine, a stream of water, or even a great set of odds at the races... I'd fault and choose none of those. I'd ask to be a road. A long, winding, wandering road that has but one purpose and one purpose only.

A road that finds roads.