Homeless

They say he wanted to know all the edges of freedom

he'd turn his sight to the sky and try to travel the distance with his eyes

Many restless nights planted inside the seeds of wanderlust 

The stranded nomad despised the roots, the moss

But how do you know when you are truly away?

How can you tell when you're traveling, fleeing, or lost?

Though he just stumbled around the place of his birth

homesickness, the currency of madness, was always there

Always fixed in a place

like a planet that spins 

lingering homesick.