He drove through the night so hard it became day.
Flames were as feathers tickling the past never to be felt.
Determined to break free with stubborn chin jutting to cut the passage of time.
On into infinity until the chromium pitted and flaked away.
Never looking backward, only the future to see as far as he could go.
Silent though, while focused.
Try as he might to cut a path of brilliance time dulled him as rocks and weather took their tole.
Yet never was there a change in his gaze nor moment of doubt that he was on the righteous path to nowhere.
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