Philosophy I Poem by David Thomas

Life is the highway
to which i.you.he.she.they. are the car
of which is made of many things
from a to z and dirt to blings
but when you look at it
long and hard
through all of the bitter tints of life
and the veracious hues of joyous life
together the bittersweet weather
of never ending, optimistically expected and,
conveniently inconvenient weather.
we drive on in many different lanes
(if in seriousness you now not think, listen to these words.)
i drive left in the steady as she she goes by right
in the fast, we all drive different and away
some drive together, many drive together.
and some as do i, are not like birds of a feather.
the weather it comes, and so often does it go
that we cruise on by going ninety-five to show
but you see this highway of life
and this really is what it can be,
is never finished till we are
and come the time we won't know the difference
as it so often occurs;
life passes by and you can drive anywhere
the beach, mountains, forest, city,
the world is to be had and to be had
is to be yours.
these super highway systems,
they are life under wheels
extending loving and slash or foreboding arms
to all whom drive these ways.
come time we all do drive as it happens,
the highways are ours and we drive
struggling through heavy thunderstorm, ice and snow
suffering the heat and begrudging the high,
other times we go on without even a goodbye
yes, that is what we do on good days. No.
we almost never look back unless there's a reason,
as this philosophy goes too,
so many times when there is no reason to regard the past
do we as easily mistake our paths.