0 WANDERLUST

Part I

There it is, that restlessness,
it makes a space and roams in me.
A soft but steady murmuring,
the anxious need to be set free.

To open field and valley wide,
deep roaring gorge and mountain high,
for grass and wind, for sand and sea,
some other path unknown to me.

A new day dawns with sparkling hope,
my head says no, my heart, just go.
This urging of ten thousand dawns,
a battle waged but never won.

My head is safe, in ideas dear,
yet still in me, this primal fear,
that I should move, but can I leave,
some grand adventure waits me.

Like shinning shell upon the shore,
it draws the eye, which must adore.
A mystic scent, a strange allure,
a call to come and make secure.

No pot of gold at rainbow's end,
so take it up and drink it in.
It whispers in the deep of night,
come with me, and take to flight.

Swifted footed now I pick it up,
but like a thing from slumber deep,
it takes up wings upon first light,
now out of reach and out of sight.


Part II

It is a lust that can be tamed,
a means unto the wide wide lane.
Across this planet, bright and blue,
such gifts await those who pursue.


And inkling deep, a rumbling,
the hungry must that pulls at me.
The need to go, the need to know,
the voice implores, that life is more.

Of salted air upon my lips,
or stone cathedrals in the air,
of silken sand beneath my feet,
and whispering brook in forest deep.

Is this a lust that should be tamed,
this teasing fiend within my brain.
It feathers heart and foot alike,
to search again beyond my sight.


Part III

So in this dance, a balance find,
what to pursue and leave behind.
And when again, I run for it,
my heart does leap, and skip a bit.

What is beyond another hill,
around the turn, something to thrill.
What will I taste, what will I see,
and free the child again in me.

So as I play, and feed the need,
there is a grace that quiets me.
There is a hand, within my own,
who makes all roads, my very home.

And as we chase, elusive lust,
side by side, we find so much.
But look, a flash, just down the road,
come now my love, let's snatch it up.

For every hill and every dale,
a sweetness there, that we must tell.
So wander on, but never loose,
the greatest gift, of me and you.

--Jonathan J., 64