Nachu Subramanian

The reflection of the rising sun on the handlebar is my alarm. My first cup of tea is miles away from my bed. I don’t have a home. I carry my world with me. Boundaries have no meaning for me. I have no time to see the dust clouds in my mirror for the road ahead calls out to me. The wind is my partner. The sun is my compass. I don’t stop in the rain. I sing with it. The evening birds match chords with my thump. The neon lights of the city become blurry lines as I enter the encroaching dark of the highway. The earth is my bed. The sky my roof. I sleep to the music of the gurgling brook. I'm a nomad