To prove

that I am indeed worthy
of traveling in the pursuit
of my passions
and in pursuing
commendable cogitation
fool’s errand?

I wish to go my aimless way

They say this way I’ll never turn out as much

But my rolling stone will gather moss.

I’m not lost, I’ve got
a case of wanderlust

The desire for more

fills and kills
that empty hole I seem to keep as an open door

One day

The wind carried away
the last pieces of his laughter
echoes of him
to a place my feet would no longer roam

The gift of goodbye was the last gift he gave

It’s still the same moon to whom I sing my songs to

I know my drifting will not prove a loss