I come and go, as the autumn reaches towards the mountains. I am always on the move, never staying in the same place. I move with the wind. Many say that I don't have a home, but everywhere is my home. As the seasons change and the cold tries to take hold of the world I move onward towards a new chapter in my life. The patter of the rain hitting pavement makes me smile as I walk. Walking forwards, but walking backwards. There is no direction, for there is no destination. They call me wanderer, but I do not wander. I drift. I go where my feet take me and I change as I am forced to change. I am here than there, but where is here and where is there when time and matter around me tear. You may think of me as a loner, as a wanderer. But I asure you that I'm just a shadow of the wind.
September 21, 2012