Racing West

Racing west to the infinite sea
Beyond the mysterious topography
Of those faraway hills ensconced in mist
This inevitable, sinusoidal being
Traverses mind and spirit

Stumbling over threefold planes (or one?)
Taking unknown steps forward (or back?)
Living out this draft (to what drum?)
A bird riding a draft (will she last?)

Blowing through those clouded hills
Eroded to valleys eroded to canyons
A steady devolution boring a hole
I ask the sky: what sediment have I lost?
And how far yet to bedrock?