Wanderlust

Can a person dismiss their own desires?

Unsettled
shaken fragments
void of hope.

Never still.
Movement precedes me;
traveling.

I cry out,
Where do I call home?
Leave again.

Madness here,
shadowed memories.
Hopelessness.

Boredom comes
bleeding in my soul.
Wanderlust.

Traditional Haiku. 3-5-3

*This poem is dedicated to a close friend of mine. To her: I hope that you find what you are really looking for.