VII. The Crossing
The engine starts again
without explanation.
The road receives her
as if nothing changed.
Miles pass
until the dark begins
to shift.
Lights appear—
one, then many.
Roads intersect
without warning.
Cars move beside her,
ahead of her,
past her—
each certain
in a way
she cannot understand.
Signals flicker.
Engines rise and fall
in patterns
that feel almost deliberate.
She follows
because there is no space
not to.
The road splits,
multiplies,
rejoins—
offering more choices
than she can hold.
And still,
none of them feel like hers.
For a moment,
she is carried
not by silence,
but by motion
shared with strangers.
Then, quietly,
the crossing loosens.
The roads separate.
The lights thin.
And she is moving forward again—
alone,
with the brief weight
of having been
among others
who never saw her.
#thought
Mar 22
Mar 22, 2026 at 7:13 PM UTC
VII. The Crossing
The engine starts again
without explanation.
The road receives her
as if nothing changed.
Miles pass
until the dark begins
to shift.
Lights appear—
one, then many.
Roads intersect
without warning.
Cars move beside her,
ahead of her,
past her—
each certain
in a way
she cannot understand.
Signals flicker.
Engines rise and fall
in patterns
that feel almost deliberate.
She follows
because there is no space
not to.
The road splits,
multiplies,
rejoins—
offering more choices
than she can hold.
And still,
none of them feel like hers.
For a moment,
she is carried
not by silence,
but by motion
shared with strangers.
Then, quietly,
the crossing loosens.
The roads separate.
The lights thin.
And she is moving forward again—
alone,
with the brief weight
of having been
among others
who never saw her.
#thought
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