our roads - tarred
by a goverment
of memories, vast,
unstirred by our
adrenaline rush,
and of where they
lead, we know not
yet
they tilt our steps
away from certainty
and strecth
cunningly into the
woods of probability
each time we send
a peep to spy
their heading, they
hide themselves in
farawy clime,
beyond our ken...
but they are mild,
and their agenda so
beautifully achieved,
as they caress
our loose nescient
speed into a
measured
steady-slow
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