A wanderer.

Traveling where the wind takes him; hoping to find an ease of mind.

Years of bloodshed and demons of war are left where they are in hope of a new beginning.

Striving for a place to be; not knowing where one belongs.

Change does not settle well with this one.

Many purple dawns pass as his journey is cut short.

A fated encounter and individuals meet.

Rest now weary traveler, rest your feet.

This is not permanent, for you will have to pick up your stick.

Fling it behind you and walk onwards to the one that is.


Gotta love beginnings.

Ah, what a babbling idiot I am!

:D