Driving

Maybe this letter is for you.  in a constant state of near sleep walking, I state my case.  Vague and somehow without meaning in this place of all places.  How to grow with stunted dreams and clipped and butchered wings.

Then again, maybe this letter is for me.

Simple words to unrestrained minds.  Yet, no help can be found here.  Nothing found but this cathartic release of passing deep emotion. 

I drove the other day.  Just drove and drove.  Only vague goals in mind.  Indecisive as I am, I rode on the feeling of movement.  I couldn't stop.  I ended in a different country and wanted to keep on.  I'm not sure of what it was I sought.  A freedom of sorts?  A sense of being but not belonging?  I have always craved the open road.  In ways I cannot explain.  That I never could.  These low and driving moods are my secret.  They last for short periods and when gone, leave me with a peace, a clarity and emotional high I cannot contain.  

Where life is joy and sunshine even through the gray.  Where time is of the essence, yet holds no importance.  Where I truly live is here.  In my darkest hours, in my brightest moments.  In this poetry of thought.  In these I exist.  I believe.  I am.