III. Point MeI hear

I hear their concerned whispers
Wondering why I wander
Change my mind,Laugh it off
They wonder how I'm comfortable traveling through guest rooms
Why I never seek a permanent pillow to rest my head
After another day of routine
Why I won't slow down
Why I seek it now


Please point me 
To anyone who is a permanent resident in this life
To anyone whose kitchen is guaranteed to always feed
Whose roof will promise never to collapse 
Whose definition of home will never change 
Whose roots are made of truth

Please point me
To the stranger who holds the answer 
To the youth happily trapped in prisons of opinion 
To this myth of stability you hide your fears under like rejected dust bunnies swept beneath your shining Persian rug

Until then,
I will seek
I will leap
I will hurt
I will fear 
I will live

I will.