“When the storm comes, my compass always points back at me.”

I could never understand why the answer couldn’t be as easy as forward to the trees or back to the place I used to be. No this compass, my compass always points back at me.

The echoing silence and the pulsing of my feet seem to be my only attachment to reality. As I traverse over terrain I never expected to see and wander in places I never thought I’d be. Right here and right now I finally figure out this journey to find something to call home was just my attempt to find safety within me.

I now realize as wander alone lost within the caverns of my mind of this endless walking and the fear of the danger heading for me. I could’ve stopped anywhere, with all the paths I took and the people I saw but no I chose to keep walking. Now in this moment, I realize I’m still walking physically because I wasn’t looking for outside safety I was looking for me.

A crackling startled me from incessant thoughts. My reality seems bleak, a sky so gloomy and gray the lightening behind the clouds appears translucent. The trees shuddering in trepidation for the uncommimg situation. I guess when i can’t see the blue sky and sunny days that’s when I realize what i have left when the storm comes out to play. What a cliche…