Broken Compass

Moral is like a compass. It always points north. No matter from where you are. It depends on the person holding it to determine the road there is worthwhile of the destination.

Now it's over
I wonder where I should start all over
Being in a long run
we all race to the up-front
None too satisfying now that I'm here

I want to walk forward
Paint the clouds on the blue sky,
sway the grasses with my motion
Sing the wind that brings the voices from distant
reaching the northern star that flickered;
broken glass in riverbed,
Love is the tranquility I want
a climb of no destination
can I have it?

Fighting against the war that isn't mine
I came back wounded
No defense too weak, nor did I win
We're running in the senseless direction
Defying gravity
but lost somehow...have we gotten to a beginning?

The thoughts that turned zero;
with the broken compass, I see clearer
and if you can't find me
I'll call out your name
and you'll see, the long walks grew in us
we never changed at all...

Author's Note

Ignore the senselessness