Ominous glows raise the hair of the horizon.
And while the ecstasy of the past
beckons from the back seat to fear of the dark road,
my determination highbeams into an even better future.
But what roadkill waits to splash it's bile upon my tires?
What crazed hitchhikers stand in the darkness with sore thumbs raised?
What beautiful fellow travelers will flash their brights and join my caravan,
Or even slide into shotgun and sing with me and my stereo for the long haul,
While others veer off course cursing their maps
Letting the life drain from the GPS
Running out of gas?
I steady the wheel and tear away the rearview mirror,
Glad to be free from the blinding annoyance of badgering tailgaters,
And finally exposed to the complete and full view before me.
Though things grimace and twitch in the crevices of the strange, dark countryside,
They are only grotesque spectators to our grand journey.
And despite the condition of the road that was once only erratically revealed,
We learn to glide past potholes and storm drains
Past the dead things that plead to avert our eyes from the course.
Now the headlights bathe the road before us in clear understanding.
And even the moon smiles, forgetting that it's broken.