Nomads know.

Ahead in every direction are the dreams that you seek.
Scattered crumbs spoiling in the sun– don’t pick them up, they’ll lead you wrong.
Focus on the way the birds follow the drafts, wind rising, wings falling, focus on that.
You need a sense of self when you run here. You’ll need to know who you are. You must own what is inside your wildly wandering mind.
There is no X to mark your map. No legend to guide you there.
Follow the tugs on the strands of your hair that windy fingers ensnare.
Nomads know the sky.
Nomads know themselves.
Nomads know more than you and until you leave, you won’t know why.
There isn’t much room for not being alone.
There isn’t much space with room to fill.
Nights are filled with unfamiliar window sills.
Your dreams are straight ahead, in every direction. Pack a bag and go. Nomads know.


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