The clouds look like mountains at the end,
On a Northbound highway in late day.
Though they fade, decimated by the dark,
In obeisance to night, at dusk
They dwarf the horizon, unscaled peaks.
Chase them, and run short.
You get only the glimpse,
No speed great enough to arrive.
Greed will outrun you,
Every time.
© SXT 2023
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I write stuff when something begs to me to write. The goal is to write ten-thousand things before I die. I tend to be morbid, reflective and personal.
