They talk of cogs and wires, dirtied limbs, exhausted tyres, crippled spokes on sinking mires. Yet to me an extension, of my worldly dimension, Yes! I will mention this sound invention, that has brought to me such spiritual ascension. Inanimate soul, just know, that I am ageing flesh and bone, where I ride you’ll go, then in time we’ll both corrode. Still, understand there’s a truth to be found, atop some marshy mound, or in a pond or all around. There within the very foundation, the truth’s unveiled in a silent revelation, that in fact there is no limitation, just boundless joy in pure imagination. Metallic mare, my one true love, a more fitting freedom I know not of. So take me now, there to dwell in that sweet solitude, to be grounded like the forest, cold and dewed. There where the curves that blend into earthward bends, propel me forth, heaven-sent!