@abbillal1.base.eth
Morning light scatters golden dust across the leaves.
Two shadow-men, two bicycles, one earthen path.
Behind them lingers the last breath of night,
ahead—an unknown destination where no one speaks.
The boy in back wears black,
the one in front, blue—two colors, two lives.
One thinks of returning home,
the other dreams of going just a little farther.
Wheels grind against soil,
but two hearts stay silent.
Dust rises, light falls,
a hand’s width between them.
No one says “stop,”
no one says “go.”
Only pedals turn,
as if time itself rides along.
One day this path will vanish,
trees felled, light tucked away.
Yet these two shadows will remain
in someone’s memory—
those who know
life is not just moving forward,
sometimes it’s looking back.
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