I drank the crescent moon As a glass of fresh wine which was never served to the regal. A plight took place in the plain night, Inside my mind, I pictured it, Allowed it to govern my actions. I stuffed my ordeals in a sack of archives I never wish to see again; thought of even eloping into the wilderness, What shall I name a desire such like this? A hermit's commitment? No, a solivagant's pastime. I let that sink in. So, while the fawning moon that razed between meadows and valleys lured me against the earthly gravity, My feets walked together. The oscillation was eerie, didn't had any idea where it was taking me, I let my membranes overpower my grey matter at that time. Time? For me, at that point, Time was a stopwatch whose every second agitated me. The fatal rattle of tick tocks gave me the curse of Ondine. Anyways, At a distant, I saw a road, convincing me to push my luck and hit it. Erupting a vision that like every other trailblazer's magic compass, I was stationed to an unknown wonderland. A solivagant's pastime? I thought again. And it was somewhere correct according to talks of the known faces across me. The known faces asked me to be more of a practical guinea pig, The thing I actually never wanted to be. Still on the crossroads of my mental duality. I simply let the other side live through me at this night. Because I don't know, Loose thoughts like this, These solivagant's pastime offered me more answers to the question that could have never been answered If I lived as a human monument that counted penny as a tool for high standard. I could rise high to the pride, Any levels of personal lionization But it would still be a facade. Because as I said, If I had a fair chance to live through the farcical reality of a solivagant, Life won't have been a time bomb for me.
