As the wheels turned slowly forward, the slim beam of moonlight twinkled against the spinning spokes. It shattered as it shone through and reflected in shadow across the asphalt street.
The dark shapes flew as they danced in shifting circles, curving with the road and the clouds above.
But as the moonlight was covered over by the sky, the shadows faded back to black in the night.
The rider pedaled on, oblivious to the night, the cloud, and the shadow.
The curving road reflected his winding thoughts as the gears clinked and the chain rattled.
The thoughts of memories, fading in his mind and of hopes, lost to passing time, haunted him.
And the ghosts, who drove him in his sorrow, rose in howling silence to rage within his mind.
The tires screeched and the handles turned as the boy on the bike turned down a root ridden path.
Each branch and leaf reached for him crying out in nature’s song.
But his eyes faced forward, his resolve stood set, and the bike sped forward up towards the ledge.
The path grew wider and soon it opened to the grass filled field, hissing from newly falling rain.
The wet grass flattened as footstep and tire tread across it, but the boy paid no mind as he passed.
And soon he came to the clearing’s edge and left the bike as he gazed down at the valley below.
The blue of a nearly dawning sky glowed softly behind the rain clouds’ black girth.
Yet from the blue he saw the outlines of the town and the trees, the flowers and the hedges of his view.
Tears flowed from his eyes as the ghosts inside battled with the beauty of the night.
Despair and loneliness swirled with smiles and laughter, playing the sound of life’s doubt and wonder.
He yelled into the distant wind, but only he could hear.
He fell to his knees, but only he could see.
The chaos within his head crescendoed to a peak, as the ghosts’ laughter echoed from phantom voices.
The boy stood as the ghostly gleam entered his eyes, and he walked to the edge to see it one last time.
But before the ghosts could push him forward, he noticed the shadows begin to dance.
Upon the horizon, a rising sun was beginning to blaze.
It burned and shone as the trees all around grew into a morning shade.
And the boy turned to see their eddying circles curving with the rise of the light.
They turned him and twirled him as his eyes spun and finally they left him facing out again.
But, as he watched, this time he saw the most beautiful of morning skies.
And in its canvas of colors and warmth he was reminded of a smile which could melt his heart.
So back down the hill he flew with wheels spinning as fast as spreading fire.
And past the old streets he cruised with blinding speed towards the people he loved.
For now he was a beacon of hope because, at last, a memory had helped him survive the night.
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