It’s coming through like feedback
from the god-channel —
part poem, part engine-reverie.

The leather buzzes like an oracle,
headlights slicing open the veil.

Orpheus is leaking from the speaker,
moonlight’s caught in your rearview,
and the highway’s humming prophecy in 4/4 time.

You drive like you remember dying
while the music sings, “come back.”

No static. Just signal forward.

But if you’re ready —
yes, let’s turn the dial.