And life was like a highway
The Soul-- a car.
The moments speeding by
Blurring together.

But how many times have you stopped
Just to gaze--
Just to slow down,
For once.

For once? --why did matter
How fast you were going,
Or how slow the horizon was growing.
For once: why drive at all?

It seemed that: drive.
All it seemed. All it is, really.
Could you leave?
Or are you stuck on this continuum?

Maybe it was the way the sun's gaze
(that day specifically)
Held the world in such
Un-timely grace.

Like nostalgia held under the lime light.
But it was gone as fast as it came,
What's left is-- well-- memory.
Couldn't you have stopped?

And now it's stuck behind your mind.
Like the black blotch
Of a crack
In your back window.

But regret is no more than rear-view mirrors
And and empty tank.
Wouldn't the sunset be so much better
If you weren't headed towards it?

I mean--

How many times did you escape,
Just to walk-- heck,
To even measure how long
The pavement lines were?

Sometimes the best thoughts we have
Are just backtracking to find gas.
But that's regress...
Isn't it?

But maybe a new body on an old frame
Doesn't cut it.
You're worth less if you have miles.
Yet without miles, you lack the rustic wisdom.

--whatif

What if death's the only destination.
Then why even bother
With where you're going?
If the sunset fades--

Look,

You could have all the moments
Pass your window
Or
You could simply gaze.