Cavernous Cry

Republishing something i wrote two years back

Distant, untrodded virgin lands teasingly beckon the wanderlust bug to its unfathomable treasures.
The sensory touch of forest leaves…
The sight of green hues contouring blue skies tempt the aspiring nomad…
The instance where only time and space exist,
Wafts the drifter to the journey which lives its destination every moment.

It stirs, in my soul, an aching desperation to refrain from the mundaneness of this
solitary confinement.

"We hang the petty thieves and appoint the great ones to public office."
-Aesop

Sleepy

Am quite sleepy.Which is neither being asleep, nor being awake.
And given that choice I'd happily choose the former.
Yawns.