...

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lpGpndN4q5U

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Don't be so inclined to follow,

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For I don't intend to sidle just another solemn stroll -

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Not so much just a walk for leisure

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As it would be an aimless wandering

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Or as an odyssey, plotted into nowhere.

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There is no Penelope at the end of my tunnel -

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No formality to a purposeless venture.

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If I spied a desert, I'd want to get lost in it -

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To discover what could be found within its center.

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A sea of sand,

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How appealing it seems to go swimming in a sea of sand -

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Where windswept dunes mark the current of its tide,

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Where the grains of near glass, the forlorn fragments,

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Rest, awaiting no more than a flame to transform 

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The miasma of fine earth 

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From an ocean and into a window-lens, framing the expanse of time. 

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How close to heaven it must feel to lay within its middle -

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To bask in the lapping curl, washing from upon inside - 

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Adjacent to the heat-sink siphon of waterlessness 

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And yet so startlingly near the stars 

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Dancing in their incandescent pantomime.

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I want to walk to get lost,

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Not walk to be followed.

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I want to get lost to learn what I might find,

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Not for the benefit of a predetermined prize.

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My desert path is all but calling for me -

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Waiting for my inclination to set out, to leave,

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To disregard the minutia of this daily appeal 

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And tune my dial to a foot-steppe frequency.

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My asceticism needs no company,

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And so for that, I'd ask, you forgo the want -

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Your immediate impulse - 

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To hesitatingly, or with such urgency,

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Make the motion to follow me.

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Author's Note

Cabin fever is setting in.

** revisit last stanzas - something off with the rhythm **