It’s not about the destination;
it’s about the engine knock–
the low hum beneath the chest,
pistons pulsing, alive,
tires tracing grooves
on roads you can’t quite see.
I used to think the fuel was purpose–
a bright answer
waiting at the end of some highway,
vanishing as you approached.
I chased that vision
down streets named Hope
and Dead End,
engine roaring, headlights slicing the void.
But the truth is more complicated.
The existential fuel
isn’t purpose;
it’s
questioning.
The low, electric shock
that wakes you each morning:
Is this all there is?
That doubt shifts the gears,
demands a new map,
keeps the wheels spinning,
the landscape blurring beneath.
You don’t fill up with answers.
You fill up with the empty space
where answers should be.
The moment the search stops,
the moment you decide you know–
that’s the moment you stall.
So I keep the tank hungry,
a consumer of theories
and failed attempts.
Even the search is a lie;
The fear of the stall
is the only reliable energy:
it’s just an engine humming in the dark,
wheels spinning,
riding the waves of dysfunction
into the unknown.
Brilliantly penned, Roma. Into the book it belongs! Excellent imagery, felt like I was riding shotgun. Any automotive enthusiast would love this joyride. Appreciate you.
Damian
Thanks so much, Damian! I’m glad you enjoyed the joyride. I think all existential crises should come with great mileage and a good soundtrack. I appreciate you saying it belongs in the book. I was hoping that the imagery felt visceral, so knowing you felt like you were “riding shotgun” means the world. If an automotive enthusiast approves of the engine knock, I know I did my job! Appreciate you reading.
I love the determination in this. It has a come what may feel to it.
Sometimes not knowing the answers to everything feels scary but it also opens up more possibilities.
Sometimes not knowing brings wonderful surprises you never saw coming. They crash into you and change your life.
That’s all part of discovering yourself and finding out what you’re made of.
I enjoyed this roadtrip!
Thank you Adelphina! I love your take on the “come what may” determination. You captured the bright side of the empty space perfectly: not knowing is indeed scary, but it’s the very thing that makes room for those “wonderful surprises that crash into you.” That element of being open to things we never saw coming — that’s the true reward of keeping the existential engine running. I’m so glad you enjoyed the road trip!
This is very clever. It tells of the journey quite well, taking the reader along steadily. Purposed.
Solid write, thoroughly.
Styxian, Thank you so much! I’m thrilled to hear the poem carried you along steadily. That feeling of taking the reader on the journey is exactly what I aim for. I appreciate the kind words!
hello lovely poetess I get it this is really good the love machine keeps humming while we get ranover or we keep running from this speed demon out to kill us love is tragedy but without it would be emptiness I am up for the fight with this demon great write ❤️
Hello Crimsin, Hello! That’s a beautiful, fiery way to read the poem. You perfectly captured that underlying tension: the engine of life (‘”the love machine”) keeps running despite the forces that want to “run us over” or the “speed demon” trying to stall us. The emptiness without the fight isn’t worth the peace. I love that you’re “up for the fight”– that’s the true existential fuel! Thank you for the passionate read.
Impeccable metaphors and quite the philosophical road trip. It’s good to have a journey to end towards; but it’s the journey, which matters, in the end.
Rob, Thank you. This poem was just random thoughts, while I was on a long drive too. I appreciate you calling it a “philosophical road trip.”
You perfectly captured that delicate balance: the destination gives the journey shape, but as you said, the journey itself is the only thing that truly matters. I hope you enjoyed the ride.