There’s a sound coming from the west. I’ve heard it since my younger years. I’ve heard it sing to me, the sounds of those forgotten traits that people used to have. I want this to be a brand new start now and the leave the pantomimes behind. Maybe the cause of everything was me, hiding in my box.
Age makes you wiser they say but it hasn’t done me good. Silver linings have made me beat about the bush and metaphors of wisdom have led me to despair. Dreaming of sailing through stars and rainbows of light that would maybe touch my soul in a way I could not imagine. I’ll leave in two days maybe. Reminiscent about the things I might find. Find myself a new calling maybe and learn to weave different patterns with my hands and pass them into the sea like messages in bottles.
So let the change begin.