I Miss The Rumble
I miss the rumble, the roar of wild calling me out. I miss the low growl, the stirring that's just enough to rouse the sleeping lion within my spirit. I miss the untamed invitation reminding me of adventures then, now lost from those surprising provisions, where adventure that was short-lived in a small truck in years past is heard again in a reminder to me through a large truck driven. I miss that metal heart waking the sleeping me, calling me from the mundane and daring me to enter the wild parts of life within.
I miss the rumble and what it reminded me of then, something I had forgotten for what seems so long ago: that wild moments can be found even in the low throttle of a truck (no matter the size) if I'm willing to listen and embrace it to live free.
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