The pathway extends far beyond what the eye can see, a thin trail of dirt and pavement, winding through valleys and climbing over peaks, beneath skies that change with an unfettered flow. The fresh morning air vibrates with the aroma of the ground, the tarmac still cool from the weight of passing vehicles, the sound of travel, the calm push forward— no specific endpoint, just the journey itself. Little towns flash by like tales left behind, their windows filled with lives that remain unknown to me. A woman tidies her porch, taking a moment to observe. A boy with a crimson kite races against the breeze. Here, there is no history, no future, only the cadence of movement, the changing light dancing over rolling hills, the brisk wind rushing through an open window. I drive past relentless rivers, hills that do not inquire about who I am, skies that broaden as if they too, have never been confined to one spot for long. At night, the stars draw near, their chilly glow illuminating the path ahead, or perhaps leading deeper, to a space within me that lacks boundaries. And so I go on, with dust in my hair, wind at my back, the road unfolding in front of me, always extending, and something akin to freedom igniting in my soul. ©️ James Michael 2025