putting the passport away

in honour of those who draw me home…

the road rarely ends
at the end of the map.

and if the road ends
there’ll be land
or a sea
or a sky
that spreads into
a future
and from a past
too vast
to ever be known.

my dreams taunt
with imaginary worlds
more real than the real
where freedom
and joy
at the newly discoverable
cast aside the deadening weight
of what’s happening now

but though i would be an adventurer
searching the reaches of the world
drawing maps of new-found spaces
with myself the only changing constant
it’s only here
where you are
that i can search the edges
of myself.