Waking up to a cacophony of noise,
I arose to a familiar place.
A place so much like home but still far from it.
It was small, too small for four
Maybe five for a time.
When the four could no longer support such small dwelling place,
they all lamented the loss of it.
I was lost to a temporary sickness, not knowing what was happening,
Seeing all without knowledge, giving no interest.
The four left on the clean road to come unto the dusty path.
No knowledge of the place, the four where left to their own.
The dry place changed them, perhaps for better or for worse.
I was lost in the heat and the dry, but, one day I found solace in a library.
Enamored by its calm and its quiet,
The books became my safe haven.
Worlds were within reach, better than the desert.
Roads became paths, but I have made the path become roads,
Roads that I will travel on.