Poem, Sagas, Scenic, Short story

Ever moving.

It’s a lonely road, the traveled path. The one I embraced so. And still to it, my life it goes, those moments of lonely bliss.

But back at home await the faces I know so truly well. Their smiles which bring such joy to times, as innocence shines of jaded experience.

If for a moment all is well so long as they are safe and well. To the ends of the earth and the most vile of war or torture I stand so long as they know not.

I never regret the lonely road for what it is or where I am.

But all there is in life to see, and all those moments to be, it is time between seeing their shining faces, which grow between each view, which I would pray to any number of God or beyond, to see and gaze upon each morn and for much more than now.

2 thoughts on “Ever moving.”

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