A word that picks you up off the ground,

And pulls you in the direction

Of a place unknown

A place less traveled

A place that you could call home

But is it home?

Someone once said,

“Why were we given feet if we use them

As if they were roots,”

Why do we plant into the stubborn soil

When a compass ticks us to move North

Yet everything begins to turn South

Why do we resist the urge,

The love and the longing,

To follow our own path

The fork is there

As clear as day

Yet we choose to take the path

Thats already been taken

We choose to make the repeated mistake

Of following in a shadow

That’s already been mistaken

To wander

Isn’t finding the perfect destination

It’s to be spun around blindfolded

In a world of possibility

To stumble and fall

And when you bleed,

It’s knowing the band-aid

That will aid you in coming to your feet

The feet that should touch the sand of a pristine beach

The toes that should grip the cool grass on a mountainside

Because you should choose where you wander

That’s why ‘lust’ is in the word wanderlust

Travel where you wish

Take the path that you want to take

Because life is too short

And the oceans are too wide

Use the wings you were given,

Because you’ll never know if you’ll be able to fly again

When your compass is broken

And points you in the wrong direction

Remagnetize it,

So that you may never have to face South again