The Road To...
by Charlie Morgan
Sounding as a storm rumbling in the distance, the bike parts the early
morning mist on the road like a boat cutting through the mirror reflection
of the lake.
The air rushes past on its journey to wherever,
its chill bringing freshness as a rebirth.
The sun, rising from his resting place, reflects off paint and metal,
in colors that have no names,
while the tires sing their melody for all to hear.
There is a oneness that forms between man and machine,
made even closer by the intimacy that creation allows.
This is life on the Road to...
of which many exist.
Beautiful in ways that words are unable to describe,
yet sometimes requiring choices that carry eternal consequence.
For of the Road to...there is only one choice.
That Road was traveled by One long ago,
whose decision was made before time was,
that He should map out the route,
that we might not be lost.
There is an intimacy on the Road to...,
between the Creator and his creation,
For without the Creator,
the Road to...
cannot be ridden.
"A highway shall be there, and a road. And it shall be called the Highway
The unclean shall not pass over it, But it shall be for others.
Whoever walks the road, although a fool,
Shall not go astray."