There's a haze on the horizon...

There's a whole lot of road, a path entirely mapped out with a bunch of pebbles, some already warmly enwrapped in his knapsack, while some lay wonderfully laden in his journey. A whole lot of people, a bunch of stars and a handful amount of time, does he find himself alone? No, it cannot be yet he seeks out company, in a blister of hope, while all along something inside of him bathes in majestic solitude. Did he find peace? Rather does he seek peace? In a tangle of dreams, in a knot of illusions where would he walk? Which road, which path would he find himself walking down the trail of?

Is it the one that his soul yearns for or the one that is slithering through his mind, is it the one that his heart churns out from the vessel of lost time, or the mirage of time, in a mirror of passionate embers of his limitless soul. He walks by, he comes close, for dreams are but dead flowers when the spring gives in to winters of a sunset porch. And there but stands one fire, ignited through the countless stars dancing in a mad jest of a gypsy soul, a heart that never tires of its dreams softly kissing the stars of a distant paradise. So leads the way, where the journey unfolds in tiptoeing the vagabond mind, in decluttering all that is vaporised through the written pages of a story unwritten, to caress the pages yet to come, in a cocoon of a heart that never stops.