Random (IV)

directions

whenever I find myself on this route
i fear for when I will take off
when i will arrive,
where i go
where I will travel to.
some days, I start from the middle of the journey,
holding an overdose of my footpath
in my mouth
and save it for a seasoned tongue
to lick my leftover gesticulations,
to feel their hands overwhelmed with nothing
just emptiness with a sound,
silence with a word.
sometimes, i am in need of a north sign
a northern star, a northern pole.
a traveler must travel pass ruins
pass eyes, pass tongues until either of them
finds a treasure

Ruddapoet