Or does that trail fade into the distance behind my eyes?
Six weeks or so and restless. This bit of Missouri is soft and beautiful, lush and green. But it is a place that is not mine or me. I am not Home. My place is farther on__somewhere__ but where?
I've wandered countless miles now lost in the haze of the past. I see ever more countless miles stretching out ahead. But why? What is it I seek?
What is it that Rovers and Drifters seek? Adventure? Serenity?
Is it just adding to a list of 'places', for the list's sake? Is it only a variation of the same disease suffered by those who toil away their lives stacking up possessions they don't need and will never use? Or is it to satiate an aching hunger inside that craves an indefinable 'something'.
He has no doubt of the existence of what he seeks because he can feel it's constant weight on his chest. Yet it is a thing he can not see but as a moving shadow in the mists of sunrise.
It is a tangible, real 'thing' that he knows, for sure and for certain... yet a thing he can not describe.
The road calls to Rovers and Drifters... but is that where what they seek is to be found? On the Road?
Or__ is their serenity found at 'Home'? Does the road that leads them home actually run deep within themselves? Is that where they got lost? Seeking a road they can never seem to find__ because it's not on a map or winding across the landscape?
A Drifters Road__ is it hidden within himself?
Has he run the roads and trails to exhaustion chasing his serenity... only to find in the end that it was carried along right there in his ruck with every wandering step he's taken.
...Following a road... but I'm pretty sure it's not been mapped.
...so back to toiling on that chicken coop while I cogitate on where I'll be heading from here...