The slits of light cutting through the trees, appeared as time capsules isolated into themselves.
Each stream of light caring with it, all the dust of the past, all aimlessly adrift in a world not unlike our own.
How many lives were lived, and now consist of a mere transparent glim in my eye?
So too is my world, it is but a glim in the eye of another.
Restless wandering leads me through the streets
I know not what I am looking for, if in fact I am looking at all.
I can only understand the longing for something more,
bigger than what I have now.
I am sure I won't find it today,
yet my head can't rest until my muscles ache,
my head dips low
and my legs collapse under me.