Nothing to offer
Each time I came back from farthest,
Each time I returned with longing to go back to closeness.
What is there for me... love! or is it just a temporary romantic schmaltz?
I need the assistance of worldly truth that lies within me for guidance,
But the addled schooling of the brain couldn't handle these inner conversation which is repeatedly distracted by preconception thoughts, restricting the concentration of my cogitation.
I try to avoid wonder, ultimately I wonder, how will this urban cotton thoughts of mine will inweave the warm remote sweaters of faraway?
Am I afraid that I may get acclimatize there and never come back?
Or am I afraid of trying to run away from city of reality having nothing to offer?
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