The Road

I made the rising moon go back behind the shouldering hill, I raced along the eastern track till time itself stood still. The stars swarmed on behind the trees, but I sped fast at they, I could have made the sun arise, and night turn back to day. And like a long black carpet behind the wheels, the night unrolled across the countryside, but all ahead was bright. The fence-posts whizzed along wires like days that fly too fast, and telephone poles loomed up like years and slipped into the past. And light and movement, sky and road and life and time were one, while through the night I rushed and sped, I drove towards the sun.