Soul-less

A days work met with a practiced smile,
A night's study lost in the thoughts a-while.
The long long path winds away from home, further and further away.

The hills have cried themselves hoarse for years, the trails shiver for a touch of feet.
The air for your breath, the sky for a stolen kiss.
The practiced smile washes the sea waves saltless.

Maybe one day you will leave.
And the pages won’t seem to matter. The words dwindle away to the comfortable silence.
The green will burn in little vestiges, while you gather them in your fist and throw it at the winds.


And from the crackling shell of a hypocrite, the soul-less and the dead. Only a traveller will live.

At the days end- the all deluding sleep.