Wanderlust

It’s everything, and nothing

the vast emptiness of void

knowing potential is in reach,

inches that feel like miles

stretching forever and yonder

circling me in wonder

like vultures after meat.

The need is neverending

to turn over every stone

and walk every path unwalked

even if I trek alone

the pace follows my heartbeat

ever faster ever leaping

enchantment of unknowns

taunting me ever so gently

in a forward always race

don’t look back , and settle down never.

for the link and bond to adventure

I wouldn’t dream to sever.

pushing the limits, I am pleased

never dawdling longer than necessary

just a glimpse, just a taste, just a tease

won’t be long before I grow wary.

and then I will be off again,

galloping through emptiness and void,

it clamors, my heart;

 for new and untraveled

and my feet endlessly covet,

roads and narrow dirt paths and gravel

it’s everything and nothing

the beauty of vast emptiness and void

Consumed

Sinking, empty drowning

Two halves of me battling within

Tearing each other to shreds

Wondering I lie- whom will win?

The hour of misery approaches,

The agony of the unknown broaches;

The salt upon my cheeks solidifies

I’m turning to stone as the reassurance dies

Two facets of me are fighting-

Waging war through vile strategy

Each taxing emotions, peace and rest

Absorbing all but stoic apathy

One half of me is dying

Surrendering to absolute collapse of light

Reversal is futile; repair a lost cause

As death looms forward in the depth of the night

Apathy induces mourning;

Drowning in wordless dread

The curtains of my life solemnly closing

As I lie, still and motionless, on my deathbed

Story of Old

Shimmering amber gems

Not well acquainted with the valleys

Through soft petals of velvet

Awakening primitive dreams

She believes, she daftly believes

That something old and crooked

Can align, wherefore, to something true

Those shallow eyes lack a seasoned soul

In the sunrise, her ideals are conjured

To dance to a farce of a life

Despite the monsters of the dark

Monsters of ravaged wisdom that tear

At her dreams all day

She stops, she hopes, she listens

Tracing archaic paths of yore

That failed novices before her evermore

Eyes full of sage weigh upon her, disappointed

Lost in surreptitious mirages only a novice would believe

A voice she hears only selectively, on the whim of a wind

For its warnings and admonishing are much too bitter to bear

She has traveled at the end of the string

And the days of warm familiarity are suddenly over;

A brash and whipping chill surrounds her soul

There is no path over the cliff

There are no signs, no omens, or advice in the abyss..

Shimmering amber gems they once were

Spilling over with enlightenment and passion

In its place, now: dark and brooding stones

Weighing heavy on her face, mourning misguided steps of the past

The storm carries on without respite

No sunlight to beckon, no night to cease fire

Yet the story of old forever plays, proven and tired.