We Can Go

The dreams are still spinning on couches and the bed in my birth room. In them my bags are packed, but my heart is not. It still is confused and excited. The trip beckons with bright lights illuminating oceans views, ancient architecture, fine art, delicious food, and laughing comrades. In these slumbers beauty dances with anxiety. Will the world and it's gorgeous mutations inspire and distract me long enough to heal and be polished into a gorgeous stone? I'm still here rough and needing a bit of tumbling somewhere new and old at the same time. My other self "The Traveller" commands me now.