nothing at all is the matter in the least. home is where the heart travels to, and i've been on a wander filled with wonder and tumult. no roads are paved, and the rivers grow shallower and shallower each year. and yet we still give it our all.
to see the beginning of a thing, to know it and respect it, to mark it with song or a noted entry, give the origins of things such power. to never know the ends of things, to always be evolving and making choices good or bad but to make these choices regardless, to seek a love in the world, to dream and upon waking make every true attempt to realize that dream or those dreams plural, we are truly on an amazing journey. together or utterly alone, it feels good to know we've given it our best.
you will see the path, bread crumbs laden during the day and glowing iridescent with bioluminescence in the night. the trees fold in, the flowers retract, the stars glimmer amongst the outstretched expanse of black.
make an ending into a new beginning.