Roaming
They find the best — a golden shore, A love that is rich, yet yearn for more. They climb the peak, the summit high, Then scan again the endless sky. The jewel gleams within their hand, But whispers come like grains of sand: 'What if there is more? What if you missed A rarer stone, a sweeter kiss?' They sip the wine, refined and rare, Then search for vineyards unaware. Their hands are full, their hearts unsure — As if the finest must mature. The perfect song, the flawless art, Still doesn’t still their restless heart. For something stirs beyond the known — A haunting hunger not outgrown. They find the best, yet roam and roam, As if they never will feel home. Not out of greed, nor prideful fire — But by a ghost called Something Higher.
