"Let Go the Wheel…"

Events conspire, and you are inclined to "let go the wheel." You are in a vehicle, let's say you are on the backroads in an indeterminate land. You are a bit lost, you know you are heading West, you can see the sun ahead of you, trees and mile-markers are whizzing by, it's a sort of bleak land, the fields are fallow, looks like the crop has had difficulty finding purchase. It's a hard country. Stony ground. Unforgiving. You find most of your inspiration comes from above, the rolling, roiling atmosphere, the invisible ether, pillowy clouds, blue sky. At night the plump, over-stuffed moon looms above you, and sparkling stars wink at you. But, you know, you are land-locked and this is the middle of a day you can't reckon. And the wheels of the vehicle keep spinning. You tune in the radio but it is just noise and madness on the wave. Chatter, white-noise. You can't seem to find the hard-baked blues you yearn to hear. You let go. Take your hands from the wheel and let the vehicle glide forward. There is a brief moment of total freedom and abandon. It's just moment, a moment of a few seconds. You think this vehicle really does have a "mind of it's own," a purpose an intention, or at least a direction. Which is more than you can say for yourself. You wear a cloak of lostness. It's heavy, dark, but surprisingly, it fits nicely upon you, like a second skin, comfortable, it agrees with you, you are aligned with the contours of this special cloak. Lost. But. Moving forward. Figuring there is something ahead. Not driving. Not steering. Watching. Observing. Taking everything in. Trying to memorize every field, every white-line on the pavement, every pebble. Even this you do with little purpose, just letting it all wash over you, thru you, thinking maybe it will leave a mark, a stain, an essence. Or, maybe not.