Isolated
No ferry stops
No bridge to cross
Too cold to swim
So stranded here
In my beliefs
While rowboats rock
Tied up to dock
Being there
Or the
Being away
Or the
Being in motion
Which defines the true nature
Of my wanderlust
I usually decide
There’s no need
To pick one
Sun ring complementing
The line of her departure
In retreat she makes
Some small rippling wake
Much like the sun
As it dips below horizon
The world left behind
Settles into darkness
So too the beauty of the world
Its colour makes it vibrant
And lacking subtle textures
Diminishes its glory
The road
From where I love
To where I love
Passes through
A world I love
It’s lingered there
As long as I remember
While the horizon calls to me
A deep breath
In place and time
Crossing
From what was
To what will be
From the holding on
Returning
To the letting go
Pix to Words 