Wayward Son...

...felt impressed to describe my madness...

My bones won't know rest unless they
Lay against a surface that defies consistent
Rising every eight hours with no certain
Promise of the same spot to place a head
When the sunlight kisses the horizon and
Loses itself in the shadows of a starry sky
My eyes won't shut the same way if the
Last image they see is the same four walls
And ceiling I know as my own when
My heart still longs for another location
To call home.
So I roam. Proverbially my spirit soars
Alone but never lonely through the spaces
Separaing adamant & iron clad towers like
Titans frozen in the sight of God
Winds beneath my wings whisper defiance
As my conscious mind moves ever closer
To the moment when my roaming
Will reap its rewards worth the wandering
For now, I pray the pairs of eyes belonging
To loved ones who's fingers clasp in my absence
Nerves afire with worry at my late returns and
Early risings only to remain at large for the day
Will find peace in knowing that wherever fate
Carries me, this nomadic soul will always find
His way back to the starting line.

Reviews

[LJW]

Try Tylenol PM with a shot of Nyquil. :-)

Your work is so real, nothing forced, over thought, over wraught, or contrived.

Love that.

[Ali Guerra]

I like the way this is written, it flows really well. and I like the tone
a wandering soul, constantly aching to be somewhere else