The world is made of thick, bright strokes, of amber, rose, and violet smoke. The wheels have ceased their rhythmic hum, to watch the sinking, golden sun.
I leaned my bike against the light, On the velvet edge of coming night. The water breathes in ripples of gold, whispering stories yet untold.
For every mile my legs have spun, is a tether to the things I’ve done; But looking out across the blue, the horizon looks like something new.
A dream is just a distant shore, a place I haven’t seen before. But with a frame of steel and steady hand, I’ll find my way across the sand.
The stars may wake, the path may wind, leaving the heavy world behind. With one more breath, I’ll take the seat, where silent hope and pavement meet.