...

Not yet taken

And roads left

Unexplored

The wilderness

Patiently waiting

Yet we find time

To be bored

The forest leaves

Hold whispers

Of centuries old

Folklore

The oceans

Call your name

Do you not

Hear them roar

The remains of

Imperial cities

That ruled

Aeons before

Lie under

The very sun

That once saw

Their eagles soar

-Henry David Thoreau

I wish to see the sunny shores

And breathe in the sea salt air

Let the waves brush against my hand

Let the sand stick to my hair

I wish to see the quiet woods

And make our spirited howls heard

I wish to have the pluck to be

Wrong where the paths diverge

To take the road less travelled by

Have strange stories to recount

To wear my heart out on my sleeve

With all the souvenirs ive found

I wish to read between the lines

To feel beyond the prose

To make my life extraordinary

To smell and gather every rose

And not fear the thorns so much

As to stay staring at the bush

To rid myself of the fear of fear

And roar while others hush

To know to first stand up and live

To first trip and fall and fight

And then with calloused muddy hands

To sit and breathe and write