The wayward man, the wanderer, he with the restless feet , the inconsolable itch, the ever longer longing - he is every man. And i find, that this is due to our origin. We know we are meant for something more, different, better. We know that to be boxed in is death. To lose freedom is death. And we live in homes where we don't see the sun, and we are caged by everything we've ever been told, and everything we have ever thought about everything and anything. They all wrap together to the place of our thinking. Yes, there are redeemed men. Their chains lay broken open on the dirt. But they still stare at their chains. Knowing that in some way, they have not yet escaped the mark they have left. This is life. This is to be fallen. This is not what it was to be human. But this is what it is. We must move on. And in this life we will not escape it, but one day, we will arrive at home. For now, I am a fox with no hole - and to have the courage to keep seeking the sating of the hunger placed within me by the divine creator is greater than allowing my self to sit in prisons of my own making. Instead, when i dwell anywhere, i will fight to dwell in this.