He leaves
the city – a hand brushing the wind,
At night,
glistening windows staring silently
A machine
left behind in a metal box.
Views of
departure through a square window
The road
clogged by delayed traffic;
The
mirror stealing a passing glance – tarmac creeping;
Coloured
stripes saying: “Any direction can be.”
Tangled
freeways of man’s architecture;
Weave
their order with a rising sun.
Reflections
and eyes of a wonderer -
A
traveller, driven towards where other are leaving.
Open
stretches of road, a surreal landscape dancing in immensity
We watch
for eternity, until a sojourn to stretch beckoned
At a near
rusted town of no dreams -
Tractors
saying: “this is where we are when you pass to your toes command.”
Slumber
hustle of old town life, train tracks and dead pot holes;
The
pulchritude of decay explored through serene eyes of reason.
Dead
mines and yawning shafts, storage towers and maize fields;
Dust
tracks for farmers and stringy fences swinging to dawn’s hymn.
He greets
an elder here, picks a flower bud through a photograph;
Reminisces
over sights of derelict souls -
Through a
sea of dried grass, a veld showered by early rays
Sure feet
pacing; the nimble walk confronting the opening eyes of God.
Unflinching,
steadfastly aiming for a ruin in the horizon, he meanders about
Corpse-houses
and tomb-walls, where quarrels were once roomed.
Frozen
images of abandoned sheds and family shelters, squat over every plain –
The
memory of what is left behind always making way for the coming.
Oh, the mist-clad
forests shrouding our destined drive,
Mountain
tops we glide upon –
This road
is discovering itself through us.
Another coliseum
of man’s bravado looms
City
skyline brooding from below, lapping the shore’s plenty;
Here the
journey ends into a dream.
Upon
boulders and walkways towards the open sea,
A
beach-comber scavenging for metal among sand grains glistening,
Sea swelling
a dance as rays dance on water`.
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