Writing Resources from Fifteen Minutes of Fiction

Traveler

Tonight I possess all the emptiness
Of a windswept soul.
I turn my eye to a clouded sky
And wish for home.

Yet home is but a dream,
A mere memory in my mind.
Further than my reach
And strangely outside time.

For though I walk a thousand miles
To search for things I know,
This life I live still plies its wiles;
I'm left out in the cold.

Lost is what I call myself,
Abandoned what I feel.
I know not where I’m going,
And no one who is real.

Windswept in a foreign land,
This place has chilled me through.
I wish for a place familiar,
And for a face that’s new.

Freedom lies in wandering;
Comfort lies in chains.
The wind is my companion;
It comes, yet never stays.

Loneliness is my torment,
Yet I long to be alone.
This pilgrimage, it suits me,
Still I’m wishing for a home.

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