I’m waiting…
It’s loose, rambling through the open spaces, crashing into the barriers confining it. Scrambling frantically to escape, to no avail.
The cycle keeps repeating. Speed up, crash, start over. If only there were a way to set it free. Darkness can’t soothe it, silence isn’t a remedy either. Distractions only create new paths for it to roam. Noise causes a similar sensation.
It runs freely, trapped within an invisible confine, driving madly in circles, stuck in a pen.
Eventually it will tire, the lack of certainty in its effort will cause a forfeit of desire. It never quits. Desire isn’t a characteristic it has. Spinning wildly out of control, until suddenly it stops.
insearchofthedream 