The Calling

Amalfi, Italy by Gennaro Rispoli

Can we sneak out through the back door?
I am not scared anymore
To soar, to dwell
Not caged as everyday self
The rules, morbid
But the world, orphic,
Calls out to me
Beguiling, “come in to me”
Luring me in,
To reveal her secrets
Lifeless words on my table,
Make me bland
The books on my bed,
Await their discovery
Feet, restless
Thoughts in my head, period-less
Heart, ludic
Brain almost names me- ‘lunatic’
For we are,
Blatant cores,
Born to burn bright,
Light up the shady night
This can be our riddle
What do you say?
You and I,
Solivagant
Can we sneak out through the back door?
Promise not to let you go like the last one.