Loneliness approaches like a tidal wave. Like the calm before the storm. I can sense it before I feel it. And I feel it before I can name it. I'm caught up in the middle.
In the eye of the storm. I am centered while being surrounded by havoc. By the remnants of failed attempts and by the chaos I create sometimes.
I've got a wild heart and a thirst for adventure, baby, but I can't open myself to the promises of this world. I can't bring myself to accept my own potential. I am a burning star in daylight.
I am a pearl at the bottom of the ocean. I am a rainy day in Mozambique. I am too late, or too early. I am more than this. More than this wave of pure motion I can't fight against.
Rage, rage, I whisper softly. Only I hear the cries, the promise. The command of life. The call of the unknown. Comfort is the death of dreams. My aspirations are in pieces sometimes.
Sometimes I am on top of the world. I've got a mountain at my feet. A mountain I have climbed. But I look up and all I see is another summit!