Wandering and Lonely
To some the Drifter is a nobody, a person with no direction, no roots.
Just like the sagebrush going wherever the wind blows until, at last,
It is destroyed, and becomes nothing more than a fleeting memory.
To some the Drifter is mysterious, deep, and grand. Just like space or a spy.
Always quiet, aloof and keeps his secrets to the grave.
And always remains a mystery.
But to the Drifter, only he knows the reason, the passion behind his motive.
His passion to find his dreams and the things he desires most.
And ever onward, onward he roams, questing, searching.
Until at last his grand quest is o’er, to roam no more. His searching done at last - to own what he desires. His dreams stand fulfilled, his roots sink in and drink deep and long of the things he finds there. A drifter no more.
Time passes and the Ex-Drifter looks about and sees more Drifters - Dreamers always on a quest. He contemplates this drive, this urge to find, and realizes this - all are Drifters. Most are not so viewable - moving place to place, most are more subtle, traveling from social event to event. Changing majors or careers, finding a new circle of friends. But at last each quest comes to an end, to go no more out.
© 2013 RichardBBenson
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