Emotion in Motion

When sadness presses like steel on the chest,

When anger sparks in the circuits of thought,

When rejection leaves its echo,

And insomnia hums like an engine that will not stop —

A man turns to motion.

Turns the key on;

A machine awakens with a growl,

Pistons rising, falling — a rhythm steadier than a broken heart.

The throttle is no mere lever, it is a trigger for release.

Combustion becomes confession,

The silencer spits the grief,

Cold wind needles through helmet vents,

Fog lifts from the visor like doubt dissolving,

And exhaust notes roar louder than the silence inside. —

Not of sorrow, but of possibility.

Acceleration—

the mathematics of torque,

the psychology of freedom.

The body leans, the machine obeys,

And for once, the universe feels aligned.

On the open road,

Sadness is not erased, it is transformed.

Loneliness rides pillion,

Anger burns in the cylinders,

Fear dissolves into airspeed.

And the man, who moments ago was broken,

Now feels infinite.

For in speed, there is no past, no future—

Only the pulse of now.

© Waquil Aziz Bhuyan