• Maybe I left my soul there long ago.

    It calls for me. A slight whisper on the wind. My body hearkens to the sound, yearning to answer it's beckoning. Yearning for the endless horizon, for the salty sweet air that fills my lungs with vitality and life, for the uncontrollable power to wash over me so that I might be cleansed of these burdens. Time is lost in the constant ebb and flow. A barren waste land teeming with life.

    I long for the sea to take me and never let me go. I long to be lost among the rocks and coral. I long to explore what has been lost and forgotten and what has yet to be seen. I long to sail on the barren waste land with nothing but the stars to guide me. I long to escape this place that slowly draw my breath away and obscures my mind. Here I can feel time ticking down to that accursed fate which we all share. There, I throw that cursed clock to the wind.

    It calls, ever so quietly. There at the back of my mind, in the corners of a forgotten room, among the faces I know and once knew, in the darkness that engulfs me at night. It reminds me when I've forgotten and stands on the edge of my mind when I'm idle.

    I will answer someday, after the world lets me go.