We wandered in a frenzy and a dream (301).
How I miss wandering around with old souls, Aimlessly moving from one place to anotherHow I miss all our dreams and our goalsAnd how we've lost ourselves to find each otherSeems like a playful game of...
The paralyzing fear of being lost is fed solely by the irrational fear that we will never be found.
When a Wanderess has been caged, or perched with her wings clipped, She lives like a Stoic, She lives most heroic, smiling with ruby, moistened lips once her cup of Death is welcome sipped.
How I wish I was like the water,Flowing so freely with every dropLet my every emotion wonder,No need to start, nor even stopHow I wish I was like the fire,Burning with every flame upLeaving a trace of...
It is growing cold. Winter is putting footsteps in the meadow. What whiteness boasts that sun that comes into this wood! One would say milk-colored maidens are dancing on the petals of orchids. How co...
With God, being lost is nothing more than an idea that never has and never will be anything more than an idea.
Have we ever thought that being lost is our destination?
If you lead me astray, then my wanderings will bring me to my destination.
My ideal journey: set out early and never arrive.
Could it be that we lost something because had we not lost it, we would have lost ourselves?