Grand Prix

Dug this out of a journal from 2005, written after a trip to Hockenheim.

The lights go out.

Fog horns sound.

A sea of red, yellow, blue and black turns

To face the onrushing storm.

Not one, but twenty horse-powered hurricanes

Surge forward.

A wave of noise,

A wall of sound

Disintegrates

Into smaller images of the whole.

Each one's path and life span dictated by the kinetic energy within.

Some sail serene across the jet-black stream.

Some fade and falter, as if not yet begun.

Yet others recklessly break and surge,

In attempt to turn the flow in their favour.

A rising-falling tide reacts to every move

With passions raging high.

And now the gods in caves of steel

Grant reprieve to waning winds,

A chance again to roar.

But all storms must end and with its end success's effervescent kiss

Touches those whose chance came now to shine

And receive thundr'ous recognition

From yellow, blue, red or black.

The tide recedes

Carrying flotsam and jetsam 

Of typhoon's recent passage.

Nations' sails fluttering on gusts of jubilation and regret.

Above a distant shore

The air is calm,

But heavy.

Dark clouds are gathering.....

Reviews

[Alistair (Ali)]

A fantastic take on the subject!..to come up with this imagery is pretty special!

[Luke Kadinopoulos]

Thanks mate, I hope you are well.