Today I wanted to share a poem I’ve been working on. I had a thought recently about the very essence of riding in a car, and how much that has changed for me since I was a little boy. This poem is a translation of that thought’s conclusion. Hope you enjoy it 🙂
Gazing through to the world beyond,
The glass window, ever beside you,
Cruising down the winding asphalt,
Hills and plains rolling gently past.
Shifting focus to sights nearby,
A patch of grass, by the roadside,
A branching tree, atop the green.
At last, you draw them into view,
Out of the constant blur of speed,
Reaching out to them with your eyes,
A lone moment of clarity,
Before they’re gone, swept behind you.
Your gaze drifts into the distance,
Houses clustered, etching the bluffs,
Faraway mountains, standing tall,
Massive cities, sprawling and bright.
Passing slowly, distant landmarks,
As if you were barely moving.
Riding up familiar roadways,
Fingers tracing along the glass,
On the cold, wintry weather days.
Every bump and turn, routine,
The daily trip you know so well.
New, unknown routes still excite you,
Concrete webbed for thousands of miles,
Skirting peaks and dodging water.
Years pass, your position changes,
Passenger to watchful driver,
Your gaze forward, the road ahead,
Fewer moments to peer aside,
Allowing your mind to wander,
And take in the beautiful view.
But when you do, so seldom now,
You recall that soothing feeling,
The world passing, both fast and slow.