
and they rode and they rode. across the desert and into the hills. and from there onto the mountains. they crossed rivers and rivulets, over bridges and underwater. the trees waved past and the light turned from orange to white to yellow and then blue. they rode all day and they rode all night. and in their wake they left quietude, peace and goodwill for that is what they were searching for. as they found these they became quieter and quieter till at last the sound of their movement was hardly a whisper, a wisp in the wind and it seemed like they were flying. the wheels of their motorcycle, now barely touching the ground blurred into shining discs and they flew forward across the lands at the speed of light. and in that there was silence and stillness.