(no subject)
and in that moment, there was a peace to be found in inertia. we were doing the speed limits great injustices on those roads and we couldn't care, our hearts demanded the movement and there was no law that could strain against that; the road was racing to stand behind us and we would not impose upon this urgency of the dashed lines, this simple determination of geometry. this is when he turned off the headlights, and for that moment we were dead, we were forgotten, shadows of souls moving in the shadow of greater souls. we were dead, and we were utterly alive, and there was nothing, no guiding lines, no ghosttrees howling around us. the road and the car and the night were as approximations, a random value and inconsequential and we were free from these things, and all that was in the bones of our faces was our velocity and our screams and the sudden realization that we were everything and nothing, and if in that instance we had hit something - if we had struck another vehicle or rolled and been thrown from the truck as rag dolls - it would have been alright because we would have continued our motion, and we would have landed just those few more feet from where we started, and every foot counts when you're pushing the speedometer past 85 to leave all your robes and shackles behind.
and then almost in the same instance they went off, the lights were back on, and the road and our bodies and the night were real again, and we were no longer abstract values and that was okay too, because our motion was still in our blood and we had not stopped, and we were trapped again between yellow lines but we could no longer feel imprisoned because freedom, we had discovered, is the knowledge that things continue moving in the dark, the knowledge that sight is not necessary for progress. and we hurtled on, free as we were, to look at stars and to sing what should have hurt us but which only made us lighter, to stagger in exhaustion and share our blood with the grass if we had to, and it was never perfect, but for just that night, we knew, perfection could wait.
nothing new, just thought i'd refresh your memories.
and then almost in the same instance they went off, the lights were back on, and the road and our bodies and the night were real again, and we were no longer abstract values and that was okay too, because our motion was still in our blood and we had not stopped, and we were trapped again between yellow lines but we could no longer feel imprisoned because freedom, we had discovered, is the knowledge that things continue moving in the dark, the knowledge that sight is not necessary for progress. and we hurtled on, free as we were, to look at stars and to sing what should have hurt us but which only made us lighter, to stagger in exhaustion and share our blood with the grass if we had to, and it was never perfect, but for just that night, we knew, perfection could wait.
nothing new, just thought i'd refresh your memories.