A study in Poetry

Rolling Dice

On a now quiet road out in the fray,
Lost in Earth's white space,
He burns a path past a graveyard frozen over long ago as well as it's decay.
After which a phenomenon occurs as rose petals rain from above.

Tribute to the presumed.
A cold solute as he burns through.
Hunters appear on the horizon, searching
For those who escaped red to blue.

They're made into a brief speed bump,
Yet the road ends shortly after,
Met only by ice.
The Nomad drives over it with brief foolish laughter.

Cracks appeared when least expected.
A trail of fire can be seen being rapidly sown into the snow
Rushing, rushing, rushing for land.
With a roll of the dice on his ring upon impact, his gift leaves them grounded.

Yet immobilized as a crash would ensue,
Leaving him ejected from his four wheeled companion.
The dice on his ring roll on a finger turning blue
More so by the second.