Wanderlust

Stepping onto a street
that my feet
have never graced before;
back once more to the city
that I thought I’d only ever see
though novels.
And I am content to wander.
No real plan, no goal in mind
other than to find
a new-to-me corner of this
expansive metropolis
to store
in the chapters
of my thoughts.
There’s something to be said about home,
but when I am free to roam
I realize
I never want to be tethered
to some square footage
in a lot
in a microscopic slice
of a small town forgotten
by the world.
There’s just so much more.
And as I stand suspended
on a bridge overlooking
the buildings stretching
as far as the eye can see,
I am aware
that I don’t even have enough years in me
to trail my feet
across this whole city,
let alone the world.
But as long as there’s blood running
through my veins
and adventurous thoughts running
through my mind
and desire that permeates
though my soul,
I will make every step count.

The Seconds In Between

I often wonder
if the thunder
has a fine-tuned notion
of exactly
when I actively
could use something to
interrupt
my thoughts.

And when it roars like a cannon
and it cracks like a shot,
I am snapped from my reverie,
sufficiently stopped
from indulging in the art of apprehension.

The suspension of the silence
breaks the tension,
and I look to the sky
as I drive down a road
that I’ve crossed a hundred thousand times before,
but it looks so unfamiliar in the storm.

I find myself relating to the lightning.
Restless.
Relentless.
Bolt after bolt
like a neon arrow
passionately pointing
and yet lacking any real sense
of direction.

But for a breath of a second,
everything illuminates in clarity,
and the vast dark night
is vanquished by
a rapid white-hot flash
that shocks this sleepy city
and quickly comes to pass.

One…
Two…
Three…
Crash.