The dreams of long ago, dimmed in my eyes,
As a moron with his head light on high beams,
Passes by me in a flash,
There I sit astride my bike,
Holding a camera with a shuttered eye,
A silent engine,
And a screaming why!
I look around and peer hard,
Trying to pierce through the inky black,
I look within and I look deep,
A light flickers, still not a hack.
I kick it to life, the engine purrs,
It reverberates, screaming into the night,
The headlight comes on,
Lit up like a marquee; a way.
A highway it is not,
With smooth contours and signposts
To keep you from going astray,
More like a rugged cross-country route
Gravel strewn, brambles a plenty,
Uneven; construction underway.
I question my sanity,
As my foot pressing on the gear,
My fingers loosening on the clutch,
I poise myself to launch into the unknown.
Fighting to let go of the lingering doubts,
Fighting the lure of the tar smoothened highway;
signposts and all.
The allure however, had never a chance,
To win against the guiding muse,
A haloed beauty drawing me its way,
Past the bramble strewn path,
Feeding the hungering wanderlust,
Showering me with shimmering stardust,
With an unearthly pull, a deep passion,
Igniting the yearning buried deep within every slumbering soul;
to soar with freedom…guiding me home.
As if underscoring an epiphany…I hear an eerie call, wondrous in its hope,
Of a wounded bird, with a broken wing, poised to soar,
Its call a healing balm, of faith it held-and I,
Though our wings be broken,
We believe we can fly.
It takes flight,
I let go of the clutch, accelerate the bike,
It dips, I wobble,
It surges on, I find my grip,
Revving up…I take on the perilous, inevitable, homebound trip!