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Understanding As I take my sheath knife
I cut into this lump of bread
taking what I need
for the journey ahead
Digging with this shovel
I reveal the roots
of a tree marked with history
a treasure to be found below
and as above
I find this compass to withold.
The breeze guides my way
as well as the wind blows
magnetic energy telling this compass
which way my soul must go.
Knowing fields of green are soon to be found
seemingly lost, I take a moment to look around.
I know I am exactly where I'm meant to be
but this wanderlust inside still drives me.
To the memories of sands,
catacombs beneath the land
all was known about a historic home
another world beneath the surface
I've walked on that journey alone.
A rattling energy emerges from my clutch
the compass guiding me to a new direction
bidding adieu to the last adventure I knew
I revel in the present
compass near irrelivant.
Because I know it's true
wanderlust lives within the few
and only some harness
the excitement for what comes next
and some of the best voyages
across high tides,
and flown through the skies
are most definitely disguised as resfeber
and for memories to be best made
are when paths are crossed
and the truth is coded
within the space
read between the lines
a message not meant for the many, nor the few,
just unilaterally to you.
