Morning sun,
Blinding me as I head east,
Though I squint,
Too early for shades,
Just way too **** cold,
And dark.
The desert paint alight with purple and subdued hues of mystery and roads belonging to no one and leading no-place,
I could exit here and be lost forever,
I wish for that sometimes,
Coz lonesome mood brings me down,
travel expects destinations,
Following broken paths is for the young,
For them reaching a place where meaning should whisper a bit in the ear,
Is more about the return than the journey,
Getting back to that place where they started is the goal,
I haven't that desire anymore,
Disappearing is a dream,
Unfulfilled,
Like saying goodbye to that early morning light.
Following still and quiet voices,
And choirs of mind.