Let Go

     Driving toward home.

     I can steer this thing, yes.

     These pedals might be useless. 

     I'm not sure. Wait.

     I know where I am now, I think.

     No. The right turn is wrong.

     So says the wall where the road home used to be.

     So says a sinister gravity that summons me.

     Turn left, turn left, turn left.

     I will do the turning.

     No.  Just hold on.

     Don't let go.

     I see where this is going.

     Steeply down.

     More walls erupting.
     Towering, blocking, pushing. 

     Endless, consuming darkness.

     And no more turning.
     No turns left.

     Those loved friends up there.
     Those who still have light.

     They will never see me again.

     Unless the one way out is up.

     Unless the one way up is letting go.

     Descend, or let go.
     Do not hold on.
   
     What have I got to lose?