Wanderlust
What adventure must I actuate to finally fulfill
this desperate need nestled deep in my bones
for me to go,
find someplace,
and become that place?
I’ve been left uninspired for an extensive length of time
seeing nothing in the world around me
that tells me to think, that tells me to do,
and I’m tired…
of trying to force my soul through my fingers
and into the lines of poems that leave me
unsatisfied.
So I set off into the unknown, every step
s t r e t c h i n g
to part myself from the start,
rendering me desperate to rush into the infinite distance,
and the farther I go, my bones seem to know
that where I am
is not where I will rest.
The horizon possesses my passion,
provides me with a purpose, to learn;
it beckons me with promises of letting all the secrets
that I so longingly search for to understand myself
s
e
e
p,
through the spread fingers of my travels like sand,
the secrets that I ache to listen to
so that I can discover
who I am.
