The car hums like a loyal confidant,
windows rolled down to let landscapes breathe.
Clouds stretch across open skies, unfolding stories.
The road, a ribbon unraveling toward somewhere—
or nowhere. Doesn\'t matter, really, does it?
Out here, silence isn’t empty, but fluent.
Each mile marker whispers a little louder;
you belong to yourself before anything else.
The mountains don’t keep score,
the rivers never interrupt,
and the wind doesn’t ask questions.
You are the only one mapping this truth.
I lose the person I’m expected to be,
find the one who’s been waiting,
tugging at my sleeve, saying softly:
don’t forget me in the noise.
Every turn of the wheel is a decision,
every stretch of horizon pulls me inward.
I touch the pulse of my own life,
stay in sync with the beating heart of it.