i dream of road maps and open windows.
the roaring of airplane jets and clicking of seat belt locks.
i could spend my whole life tracing highways
trying to connect the dots from me to the great unknown.
but dreaming is not living
nor is looking at maps traveling.
i am trapped in these four walls-
a box of comfort-
when all i want is to get out.
there's something out there
that i want
that i need
that i know i can't get here.
out this door
there is wonder
there is beauty
there is love
there is hope.
they're waiting for me
as i am waiting for them.