Poem 187 – The Zone

The zone.
Eyes fixed, focussed yet absent,
two metres from the pedals.
All else excluded.

Legs spin.
Driving mechanical motion,
mental metronomes
propelling forwards.

Time ceases.
Suspended, gathered for
one purpose; moment, man
and bike united.

one splintering thought invades.
Awareness shatters in
momentum broken.

Occasionally I discover the zone when cycling, a joyful but fragile place.

© Ben Quant 2023
Photo by Florian Kurrasch on Unsplash

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