Cracked rearview, busted taillight,
Full tank useless against the closing twilight.
Parallel orbs cut through the darkness,
growing, approaching, dancing right by,
the sway of their wake jarring, cutting like a knife.
A shaking hand drifts toward that precious metal piece,
pushing, turning, loosening with each click,
the sound deafening in silent space,
yet unable to spark life to drown the hopeless cry.
The mechanical maze awes and baffles.
Puzzles and pathways,
roadblocks and riddles,
No miracle nor savior,
self reliance under the hood.
Black and bleak against another fading hour,
A guide toward the coming dawn.
Rough capable hands tug, twist, and turn.
Wide eyes darting left and right,
eager to remember and learn.
Spark, ignite, hum to life,
and glide home in the rising sun.