There is something inside that echoes to me.
There is a voice that calls me from my foxhole and stirs me to fly.
It is constant lust to move and be free to a point that dreaming no longer suffices and I long to see what is out there beyond these porch rails.
It is the Wanderlust so vibrant and sharp that my feet move themselves with the longing to pound roads untraveled.
There is a hunger to unveil the uncharted spaces and find refuge in the knowledge that I don’t belong here, there, anywhere.
I see the moon and wonder how its beauty might be seen from the next block down, or the next city over.
Like the hummingbird I can’t stay still for very long and unlike her I am not free to take up and leave. My wings are undeveloped and I am stuck here for now until I can get up my strength to flee.
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straightbangs posted this
