The Fall & Rise of Wanderlust

There are people who constantly
wish to travel. Their bodies mimic
the symptoms of a fever that is heartfelt
and their hearts have a longing that strikes
like lighting. Their dreams of travel
go in and out of tune as they realize
the factors that stand in their way.
They wait, and home is a pitiful static.

On tables, magazines filled
with images of various
resorts and travel destinations
are resting; tossed like bodies strewed
across the street.

Now, the cure;

it seems for every inch of places found in art
there is a mile yet to be seen. Give up and rest,
or better yet, dream.

Pretend you are a street
artist chalking yourself
into the story. Tell me,
how does it feel to rest
your hands on rocks
in Stonehenge?

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