In the car

parked near some woods, engine idling rhythmically and I'm wondering....Is there some connection to my body and the machine rumbling softly under me?

I think to myself, 'we are made of the same stuff'. I sense its wonder at my touch, my attempt to control it so lovingly. I feel the cool of its seemingly dead molecules of steel and glass and plastic, which is nothing compared to those molecules vibrating radiantly in the glory of more animate objects.

Do these little orbs not have life also? Is it their inanimate state that (to my slowness of sight) they appear benign? They move to a different rhythm, an ancient song which eludes me though I seek to catch a glimpse now and then of its essence.

If I could match the speed of their waves, their songs, their longings, I would connect to the chain that links me to all motion. Thus it would make sense to me,this persistent thumping in my chest and all the little universes that vibrate to the tune of natures waltz, and the beat of compressed fire in those four steel cylinders.