By Vivi Sojorhn

There is no horizon. That’s the thing. And, how do I know, if I keep going, I won’t drive over the edge of something, a cliff, the edge of my world, into darkness or pure light. The point is I do not know what I will do next. I am tired already in that. Tired of pushing into a fog, a cloudy night, a blizzard.  No lights beckon me except the light of my inner passenger forever excited to see what is next. That is the vague feeling that holds strong.

Pointing into the

Unseen tomorrow, perhaps

A beautiful turn.