Creative Content,  Literary Work

The Nomads

The night was hesitant. The clouds danced in an awkward ballad with the winds, obscuring any wonders the black canvas holds. Far in the distant expanse, hopeful twinkles caught our eyes.

“Stars,” I whispered.

We strained our eyes, tugging at any muscles that would aid us in our quest. We had wishes to liberate but none of the celestial bodies were strong enough to hold them.

The stillness of the night took our mind captive, chained our bodies to the seat. Our soul, wandered free through the sky, took ride on the dark stallion. We were nomads, unwilling to settle. Our stomachs were aching for the slightest taste of the dreams the day had stolen, and so, we set out to conquer the night.

Every dream, every fear, and every hope took hold of the stars. For now, they were our journey. We jumped from one star to another, collecting nebulous dust to sow a constellation.

Our dreams have transcended reality now. The borders have faded, leaving potential sparks to ignite our essence. We are one in mind; a network of intercalated threads holding the entirety of human consciousness as one single fabric. Our sanity treacherously balanced upon its fragility.

We are not liars.

We are just travelers.

We have no motive,

No destination.

We relish in the journey: the search for completion.

But for what,

We do not know.

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