As a Wheel Turning of Itself

A highway in the distance sounds 
And resounds with the smooth whine 
Of wheels making time.

Shriek of metal and murmur of tires,

The piston's rage firing

The wheel's utterance  

Of a circular complaint 

About the long, convoluted effort it takes  

To move.

 

The caviling cry of countless vehicles 

Devoured by the serpent of highway,  

Its ceaseless hiss of loud warning

Twelve lanes wide, uncoiling  

The infinitude of landscape 

Across an incalculable distance 

Of wheel to pavement, 

That fundamental point of  

The serpent's mouth to the serpent's tail, 

Every vehicle swallowed whole 

By the constant space before it,

Leaving behind a slough 

Of serpentine miles in the blaring wind. 

I lay half awake, listening 

To the force of unseen wheels

Inside of wheels  

Unbend the miles 

In infinite revolutions spinning  

Upon an ambient river of  violet-blue asphalt 

As I lay in a trance 

Absorbed in the paradox of distance 

On top the warm, soft road melting into   

The entrance of dreams 

Where all is near and immediate.

And there... upon the endless surface of the mind,

Along its many roads,

I can almost hear it... 

 

The azimuth of a star

Intersecting with the celestial horizon

In a violet hue of both sound and color.

That point of great interest.
I can almost hear it-

 
The complex mathematics infusing space,

An orbital music

Inside a spiral of wheels  

Meshed inside a cog-works 

Of chakras and vehicles  

All connected to the heart.

Every millimeter of space
Intricately tuned to 
The flaming harmonics
Of a music playing here and in the immeasurable
Distance. 

From my bed 
Nothing has nor requires any direction. 
Perhaps nothing really moves.
And distance? 

All of these vehicles going to and fro

In infinite segments,

Second after geometric second,

Through an artificial arc of horizon. 

Closer and closer, 

Yet always halfway there. 

Driving onward, unmoving,

Over parabolas of overpasses that ascend

To a zenith then return

To start again

At their nadir.

 

Through 360 global degrees  

Spreading without boundaries, 

Every moving vehicle evinces 

The mystery of The Chariot.

This vast threefold embodiment 
Of the One Self in all time and place
Rolling down straightaways shimmering in exigence,
Merging onto transcendental highways 
From off the streets of immanence 
Transporting awareness through the mind
And mind through endless dimensions.