Wanderlust

In flux, a life to love, a love to live
Is buried out there, far, amidst a trail.
In heady mist, afar, beneath the veil,
There lies a glare none but a god could give.

A thorough self is falling off the cliff,
With earthly bounds extinct, of no avail.
The spirit, yet, has clapped on every sail.
And world alone had then been growing stiff.

A step on dust is made towards the sun.
The pasture pulls and tempts a daring soul
To follow eerie tongues in hidden fields.

Obstructive knots came suddenly undone,
And slackened feet—in bloom—began to stroll,
When heaven saw what wanderlust reveals.

When dusk below Polaris falls to black,
Your guise in airy haze evaporates.
Elicit sighs, they testify old baits,
To dewy bosoms they shall draw you back.

The daring claim of mirth begins to crack,
The pastry scent a melody notates,
A tune that spoke of old domestic fates,
While harmony dispersed in light repack.

Comfort puzzled, snared in far and near,
Thou found the old, a new, a dwelling place,
A sanctuary t’wards a soul may roam.

A heart of ease and love, which I hold dear,
In which the ancient everlasting days
Reverberate in what I call my home.

But once upon a time, for once, again
The uncontested sun will rise to shine.
More elegant the stars will re-align
To lead the fallen out the native den.

And calm papyrus ‘waits the vivid pen
To constitute a mere auspicious sign:
A palimpsest account, in tread benign,
Yet dreadful ever since, and now, and then.

A foot on sand as one remains encased,
A home to where the wanderer returns,
And kingly gifts he brought her from afield.

His heart in hand and home had yet been placed,
While still his wanderlust amidst him burns;
The double-edge still causes him to yield.