(new poem, first to be posted)
Alone you sit,
Alone you stand.
The calling winds,
they are coming,
gently blowing,
across your skin.
Breathe it in,
it intoxicates you,
it stirs your soul.
Adventure,
you begin to crave.
You want nothing,
but to break free,
to explore past,
this world of restrictions.
Something,
something out there,
is waiting for you.
It sits in a distant land,
calling you,
beckoning you.
In a world so repressive,
little have you ever known,
You are meant for greatness,
you will rise up,
meet the challenge.
Ignore the winds,
try if you can,
they will continue to blow,
calling you,
beckoning you.
They will keep on,
yearning to be answered,
until the day,
you rise to greatness.
______________________________
I am meant for great things, I dont know how I know this, I can just feel it. Its a constant stirring in my soul...its a restlessness like none I have ever felt before. Have you ever wondered if you were born in the wrong era. Ever wondered if there is more than meets the eye. Something which lays under the twisting winds?
I do not wish to say that I am not mildly content with my life, I enjoy where I am. Its just, I suppose, I am ready for my next adventure.
