Just like on the post card
The magic and wonder
Hope and promise
This was the compass for his soul
A burst of new sensations await Tastes, sounds and smells
That would get his pulse racing again
And awaken his spirit
New conversations to tick his brain
New connections to nurse his heart
These are the thoughts that seduced him

This was not the first time
He’d set up camp in a new jungle
His daemons were his shadow
He hoped they were lost along the trail
Normally time was his enemy
He was the seed whose fruit
Would eventually leave a bitter taste on the tongues of others
He would become lonesome
And his hands would grow cold
Before they would choke his own neck

There is something he had forgotten
He could run from a place
But he could never run from himself