The will to move

When I look back
At all the worlds
I’ve left behind
On journeys past

Some with regret
And, some, disdain
Though most with neither
This nor that

I think not
Of the world I’m in
The present
Not this very day

But all the worlds
I’ve yet to see
Which will also
Fall behind

I wonder too
If there’ll be
A world that’s
Good enough to stay

So rather than
This will to move
I’ll stay right put
And make it home

But then the words
Which Pascal wrote
Ring in my heart
I know I won’t

For movement
Is the stuff of life
While sitting still
Is like to death

And that explains
These itchy feet
They’ve lingered long
It’s time to move