A winding cobbled serpent, the trail snakes out beneath my feet.
Her teeth embedded in the threshold,
Her tail, the backbone of the wayward street.
Her venom courses in my veins, the Wanderlust takes a hold
Like a vice on my feeble meditations
And all my simple poems will spend another night untold.
Into the ink well slips the quill, parchment tastes a still shy air
As the door is flung wide open and down the lane goes my hungry stare.
My body follows, flowing like a river over the scaly cobble-stones.
I round the corner, skipping, into a downpour of fresh unknowns.
In my trance-like state, I race to meet my fate,
with the wide and loping gait of the Wanderlust's mandate.
Through the darkened tunnel and out of the City's gate
The serpentine trail slithers, never aimless and seldom straight
A simple antidote is known to serve the venom's cure.
Heed the wild's call and strike out on the trail
Taking in the sights and sounds in all their grandeur;
Satisfy the urge to travel on the serpent's track -
High or low, wherever you go, there can be no going back.


Penned by my hand on the 25th of Ero, in the year 424 AF.