Some kind of fire, coals and all. Cooked over the flame. I sit in my window and watch the road. Nobody is home out there. My nails are broken and some things just take time. Some passive perpetual is not for me. Let’s move, nothing crazy. I mean we don’t have to sit still. Home is wherever (I am with you) but I want a place to come back to (I am not against you.) I just want to wander a little, get to know it better. The place beneath my feet and the endlessness within me. I am a wanderer. Exploring contentment and some strange redefinition. The cycle was made to shift. For you to become it.