He was always ready with his backpack,
Waiting for a phone call.
A call to incite his search,
A search for his lost soul.
He was a true epitome of a wanderlust.
Who was in search of his own soul,
That was lost when true love left him stranded,
On the dark misty nights.
He walks forward with his heart in one hand,
The past in the other.
He feels the whisper in the wind.
The whisper that created a void in himself.
He has this urge to fill the gaps,
Which now makes his world incomplete.
He takes these oblivious steps,
Ferreting the wilderness,
In quest of true salvation.
He bleeds an unknown desire,
And in every ounce of it,
He feels the agony of the love lost.
In every breath he breathes
He remembers her last kiss planted on him,
That burnt his lips like a wildfire.
Words of distrust and abhor,
Turned cherished memories to those that stabbed his heart,
He still has the void,
Which he tries to heal with these incessant long explorations.
Now with no struggle in his step,
He effortlessly walks away to a new life,
Without feeling her shadow behind him.
All with just thoughts of happiness,
And his quest won’t cease until his breath does.
And here he was, wandering alone in the search of light.
The trees echoed his soul, the smell of wet earth mirrored his mood.
He wasn’t going back to the mundane world,
For he was free as he walked the mushy path.
For now, he said let me be on my own where I belong,
Tomorrow will be a different day.
Let me make my own diary of small things,
On which I‘ll add today’s page,
Which I can cherish for ages to come.