Something strange, like a fire. It keeps me awake, restless, unable to stop.
What lies beyond this step? We've lingered too long at this overlook. It's time to move forward.
My home is far behind me now, but I cannot return. I do not want to return.
Each time I do, a quiet unease settles in before long. I need to leave, to keep going.
It burns inside me—I cannot stop it. I walk, and then I find myself in a place I do not know.
Until I know it. And then comes the fire.
Everything was still, and now everything is in flames. And I cannot stop it.
The discomfort sets in. This is no longer our place. It is time to move on.
And the path stretches forward, endless. And the fire grows stronger.
And suddenly, I feel right. I could call this happiness—though fear grips me before I depart.
Until I find a new place. And the story repeats itself.
And I do not want it to stop, because walking is what makes me feel alive.
Because it makes me happy. And it terrifies me—until I take the next step.
And then, I feel at home.