I rode by Hope Drive today,
On a day as any day,
Steady on the sought-for path,
Chasing fluid-dreams that below gray clouds hath.
What is it about this land,
Which makes us e’er strive o’er sand?
Shifted by the winds of chance,
On roads we flow on in a lively dance.
Little known about the course,
But for the sun and moons’ source.
Predictable dances danced,
To the flourishing of us: daily entranced.
Bearing caskets of regret,
And pains dug-up from times’ set.
Creaking-timber haunts foots stepped,
Upon aged-stone where progress is oft’ backswept.
Then a season comes to clear,
For a moment trusts seem near.
On a day like any other,
The tired road traveled passes another.
Desires to continue…,
Trust in humans found anew.
“Life is short”, we echo out,
As a brazen bell of funerals devout.
So we drive along our way,
Each and every bloody day,
Stepping on the cracks we’ve made,
On roads we ride on in daily masquerade.
Our footprints cut in the cracks,
Pouring crimson hurts from backs,
Over-burdened with remorse,
From the afflictions of predescended course.
Even with our scarlet feet,
Weeping from our journeys’ seat.
Eyes glisten with the sure sight,
Of a Hope Drive: reminding us of the light!
I rode by Hope Drive today,
On a day as any day,
Steady on lifes’ constant path,
Chasing the hope of dreams which each heart hath.
K. Aldaya, 5/7/05
My Soul is a Lock Without a Key 