There's beauty in that daily battle, that lonely run, that race of me against me. No matter the conditions, sleet or snow,let the brays of worry be swallowed alive by the gentle hum of spinning steel.
poem by Samu Amunét
How much am I these cities whizzing through me? As they cling their little strings of light to connect the dots in my itching soul, like fireflies dancing their erratic dance to the rhythm of soft clattering steel as I swoop in with them. How they have weaved their delicate webs into me so as to enclose me in the hold of the cold stone that paves the marrow of my bones so that when life rides right through them – they rattle with a soft hum and echo in me gently.
To wander these streets in me, and to wonder just how much they have laced themselves into this little being to build little cities of light on the hills of my smile. I’ll be myself a bit just to ride them a while. I’ll ride them a little faster and let them blur into my sweet timelessness. This little race of the quietness of wheels humming soothing tunes of nameless streets with their blank signs spelling only welcome for me to race right through their shimmer, pushing myself to live faster, live louder, live a little more alive and put a little more of that living into how I ride through all of this.
I am not quite so weakened at heart that I should become satisfied with taking life lying down in surrender my grip, but I take life by the bars and rush into it leaning forward, confident, these little cities whizzing through me in blips and fireflies crowding the cavities in me to make me a hive of dancing lights that glitter in the trails that I leave when I race right through them.
I ride all the more faster in this life and let the brays of worry be swallowed alive by the gentle hum of spinning steel.
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