Posts Tagged ‘Travel’

In my dreams,
I often take off in astral form,
Cheered on by stadiums of stars,
Off like a spectral rocket,
As I soar through the cosmos,
Skip,
Zoom,
I take snapshots of the constellations,
Spying their empyrean forms,
Proving their fabled existence,
They dance sprightly about as I pass,
I’m an astrological tourist tonight,

I have flown so far already,
But there are more sights to see,
I stop for lunch upon the rings of Saturn,
Watching a show lightyears away,
A medical drama,
Starring the ministrations of Jupiter and Neptune,
They keep trying to revive Pluto,
Rambling onwards,
The sun is calling to me,
As I approach my eyes grow heavy,
The solar rays declare morning,
This astral vacation was over.

As the timeless adage decrees,
Man must explore,
To blaze trails,
Cross malms and seas,
The very astral lanes above,

In our collective consciousness,
There is a primal need for the next sight,
Each step falls upon a new time zone,
Conquering hazard and fauna both,
Striving for the exotic,

The labour is a double-edged cutlass,
Even as they discover new opportunities,
Pray for the adventurers,
It is their achievements that are exploited,
Turned to corrupt purpose.

There was a girl who longed for freedom,
Illuminated in urban neon,
Stood beside a cold drab road,
She put a thumb out,
A signal to the world,
That she wishes to escape this life,
For a car trip to anywhere,

A yearning into the universe,
To be an unidentified flying object,
To shift her lifes paradigm,
To surge under peachy cider skies,
Astral winds blowing in her hair,
Leather car interior expeditionary,
Devil of ennui in the rear view,

She’ll scale the borders,
Making use of every carriage timely,
From truck to hatchback to coupe,
Revelling in her independence,
Once the globe has felt her sight,
Will she return home I wonder?
Or partake another hitchhike onwards?

There was an aged man,
Whom I met on an outing to the market,
A creature akin to a wildman he was,
He had no hometown and no societal desire,
He proclaimed to be just passing through,
A man of worldly tales myriad,

Over glade and alpine he had roamed,
With no company save his own thoughts,
He lived off of the land,
Always looking for the next hill,
The next river,
That next natural wonder,

His back was mangled and dinged by knapsack tonnage,
Weight carried over chasms and borders both,
He had frostbitten fingers like sabercat tusks,
Ice fields for malms he had traversed,
His feet were burned and blistered,
Meat seared upon dunes of amber sand,

We spoke until even the sun began to tire,
So he finished his yarn with a flourish,
A word of foresight,
A wish for his future,
That he desired to die amidst leaves,
And be buried amongst roots of oak.