A re-quote of Meditations.
A used up personal improvement.
I could mention Marcus Aurelius,
or maybe even Proust.
But, I haven’t finished Swann’s Way.

I’m driving.
Far and for a long time.
Past the time when the sun sets,
and there are faint gold streaks breaking through the leaves.

There’s a rumbling.
A thunder.
At first thin, in the distance.
However, it builds and grows and howls.

And then a quiet – silence.
Only the engine sound and a memory.
And all that there is contained in the short span of a lovely hello.
I don’t think that I’ll ever return.