Are New Years days really anything more than new days through which we relive past wounds, dreams, friendships hopes, forgotten and abandoned by some,
embers stoked and kept alive by tired unrelenting dreamers
encouraging new breath be gifted this fire of a dream called freedom.
Guaranteed through birth to those who will ride every road paved or not until it is found, to give honor due those whose existence proved it's existence.
Four years ago the morning was still wet and cold. Mike and Julia's future looked to be in Texas, Cowgirl, Red and Tilex were preparing to meet the monument for their first time on the day set aside to pay respects to the ashes that requested their comfort at it's mossy base at the foot of an old oak as their final resting place.
While it yet remained unknown to Z and TZ as it's existence yet remains unknown to the many but it's message has echoed across all the lands through all the times.
Freedom is the name it whispers
in the field kept company by a never empty bottle of Tequila to be shared with old friends,
the home made bell that must be struck gently for fear of it's power
the age tarnished name tags of old in formation with tags the new yet worn off.
Biker Bill's boot knocked off him by the van that crossed the center line taking his life as he wanted it taken stands sentinel with his faith.
This is not who we were it says through the dirt splashed up on it by a morning rain, but who we are, who we dared to be and who we always shall be
FREEDOM and it's brothers and sisters, FREEMEN and WOMEN.
dirt and ashes cloaked in the Humble anonymity of a simple statement made by simple men and woman who lived for the wind.
This is where I will lay my voice,
this is where, thanks to the foresight of Papa John, the vigilance of Cap, the red and the black and others who pass through this way
freedoms voice shall ever reign – in the wind...........................
Thanks to Z for the pictures
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