An aimless wandering does my life seem to be at present,
with no alteration in sight.
More of the same, and more of the same…
Everything is the same.
Except that I feel different from the rest,
and as though I am not meant to stay here
with this flowing, owing, wandering world.
I move differently, indeed,
but it is not enough – I know it is not.
I am still here, aimlessly wandering,
for something, for someone, for me?
I can feel that it is almost time to go,
and I haven’t the slightest idea where that means.
But go I shall.
That I know.
And then I’ll know.