The road is infinite,
rolling while I walk on it,
surrounded by
sparkling skies
and lightning flares
flowing in jagged lines
from one star to the next
as their gaseous fury dies.

Small ponds reflect
family happiness
with sweet interludes
of quiet evenings
and adult conversations.

The gravel breaks
disintegrating behind me
in my movement’s wake.

My eyes glaze
as school days
are razed
by all that adolescent angst.

It’s not a cage,
but a strange stage
the pushes me forward
and away as I escape the past.
It moves so fast
that I never get the chance
to relax and look back.

My brother is born.
My brother grows up.
Our highways diverge
but frequently
his road re-intertwines
with mine.

Time cracks eternity
splitting all reality
as red water drops from
another dying sun.

My nephew is born,
and ages swiftly
growing up before I can
appreciate the man
he becomes.

Still, I move on
unable to go back
on that broken cement track.

Tired, I long to rest,
hoping I did my best,
but knowing
I could have been
so much better than
the man who stares towards
time’s inevitable end.

Till, the road ahead
is like the road behind,
and my body breaks,
as does my mind.
Death’s lips parts this
dark slippery chasm.

I long to laugh,
ache for the chance
to go back,
but the highway is a
hungry beast,
and there will be
none of that for me.