Three thousand miles
navigating a storm
without drop of bad weather
Abacus odometer clicks
rotating forward ―  
spinning with the
world go round

Circling back down
a long and winding road;  
where unforgotten memories
were once searchingly explored,  
untrodden pathways
coursing way up north of alone
on the low highway
  
Now an aging shepherd
wonders without a compass ;
a vagabond deprived of light
from an ever blurring north star
Heart empty as a gas tank
with a broke down gauge,
running on fumes of hope
for unpromised tomorrows
Running from loneliness
just to be on the run

The gales of silence bellow
No feelings I can see ― lay me low

Wild-eyed daydreams
of Full sails billow out
through the windshield,
only hearing the unspoken
moments sigh restlessly ―    
The dull droning road rumble
re-sighs renunciatively,
a tired monotone voice
mimicking the loathe silent echo
wallowing in an
omnipresent hollow void
deriding unspoken chaos
between the passing centerlines ―

A frost heave pothole erupts,
with a leaf-spring rattling thud,
as a fleeting cloud of dust arises,
set adrift with the draught
headed off the east side
of the Alcan highway:
blown way outside the lines,  
towards the Alberta prairie

White knuckled steering wheel
held sway,  rolling down
a beckoning wilderness
          reincarnation; 
default reset button paused ― 
stuck in a moment ― until another jaw rattling
frost-heave pothole in the highway,
            jars it free

Leaving it all behind
like a sigh breathed
in a silence a heart has outgrown;
just a fleeting cloud of dissipating dust,..
         a paling whisper
the past seems to send forth
  like a fading last breath

Letting it all unfold to become what it is


     harlon rivers ... May 2018
       ... travelogue 2 of some

Tomorrow I may never die,
writhe in the loops of time
like catching cold endlessly
over so many lifetimes

But the place I sat,
eyes, a waterfall
of suddenly gratitude
towards existence
for its too trivial
for it to have any purpose
other than to exist.

Eyes fluttering spasms of throbs,
shedding some unknown impressions,
long held in the eye of the mind
suddenly vanishing in the air,
I was born anew in shifted time.

Life as a word, as a concept, has been very intriguing for me. The trip however, that happened a few days back, has left me with new questions while some of the previous ones that I had seem answered, for now. I am particularly not good with writing long texts, long pages of articles that might make sense when read all together at once. Generally, all of what I start off with the intention of writing about, loses its essence after the first few lines. Therefore, I am not going to drag this one and start writing that I came across, the incidences, the faces. It is more of a personal documentation as I know that these stories would be lost somewhere if not bookmarked now.
Take what you can and leave what you think needs or is felt to be expressed.

There’s a beauty in the path that I followed
White carpet and lavender border
The uneven terrains that I skip and trotter on
A freshness engulfs the atmosphere
I could stay in bliss and a state of wonder
The dragonflies, flickering light
A constant urge to learn and explore
Entendamonos
The hills have called me home.