Every day is a pilgrimageA slow travel towards originThe constant search for belongingIn the rushing of leaves, the cooking of rice As I gravitate towards the needlepoint horizonI realize all too slowlyThe end is just another stepWhile sharing the rice and walking alongside the leavesBelonging is the pilgrimage
You would rather keep me as a distant possibility that you can use as a fairytale to lull you…
I wander the path between death and dreamThe city falls awayThe mountain dissolvesIf this is goodbye
Sometimes i get so lonely that the desperation is palpable and I’d trade anything to find rest in strong…