SuryoNFT
@suryonft
Elegy at the End of Kalasan Road A poem for Anggy Damirsyah (1982–2024) A helmet hangs on the nail of time, that green jacket still holds the scent of sweat and traces of a hug from the youngest child who, that night— asked when Dad would be home. A plate of hope he carried away in silence, passing through a bend cloaked in shadows, where a life could be taken by a single short message and one sharp blade. Anggy is not just a name etched on a headstone. He is an echo from a slowly turned throttle, on a damp morning, on the way home. He did not simply perish— he grew into a legend, in every back leaned upon by drivers who may not return.
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SuryoNFT
@suryonft
The Kalasan sky that night fell lower than usual. The clouds mourned, escorting the body of a father who died for life itself. His wife didn’t cry aloud— she gazed at the sky with eyes that had just lost their home. His children stared at a blank screen where Dad’s name no longer appeared as a pickup. And his friends stood in solemn silence, praying that every spinning wheel would now carry a prayer for him. We didn’t know you, Anggy— but we all lost you. And in your passing, we ask: What does safety mean if even honest work can be a final destiny? So allow us to write your name on the roads, to place stars on jackets and hang helmets as memorials. Because to us, you are not just a two-wheeled warrior— you are love that refuses to die even when the body is gone.
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