Sojourning – Y I WRITE

at the core, the common characteristic among us of such disparate views, diverse cultures, and multitude of experiences, is our genius and the universal uniqueness of it.

bare a boy
I ran out of youth
yea, it was then
the running Began

I am bound to eternal restlessness,
Born to shiver in the warmth,
To perspire in the chill.

I stay a child of Saturday for having no more ambition than that.

I wander down roads less traveled for the mysteries are greater there.

Struggling to know one thought profound, never writ nor spoken.

Should I encounter thee, I offer my hand, my smile; lest I remain a stranger forever wonder what passion lies unearthed in thy soul.

I have come from where there are few neighbors to where they are aplenty and I yearn return to where I was before I got back here.

Each one with whom you travel owns a microcosm of your life and though she goes her separate way, your story’s there within her.