Late night thoughts

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You and the Vagabond



There’s a point at which we have to decide if we like eachother enough that we don’t want to let go. That is when you call it a relationship. You see, until then, it’s all about discovery; getting to know the ways of the other person’s world and understanding the things which make them a part of yours.

So how do you approach this person? What do you say to them? How will you know when it’s the right time? How do you know if they see you as though they’re looking into their future? How do you know if your face matches their smile? How do you know if they want to stay up late, watch the stars and dream about the oceans of contingency? The answer is, you don’t. You will never know.





Can I see your thoughts? Like lines of a poem waving in the air above your handsome head?


Can I find your words for you? And write them on my forehead so I don’t forget them?


Make my eyes a journal. Draw in them, your castles in the air.


I seek truth in your paintings.


Diving into your zeal.


How is it Sir, that you stir in me, a clarity?


How is it that all this time, before we came to be, I was so veiled?


A stranger and a vagabond, baring no ties to a certain this or that.


Will you hop the trains with me? Will you throw a pack on your back and in kindred soul, wade through the thick of this magnificently heroic globe?

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