Perish Like a Roman

The night is fierce,
its grip... almost too strong.
It provokes a wanderlust
That I almost cannot handle.

Through this Call of the Wild,
I feel only tired.
Tired of my own indecision,
tired of senseless bickering,
tired of my own inability to fix my life.

I close my eyes,
breathe in the calm night air;
shadows of deepest-ink black
stitch across my eyes.
Ah, this bone-deep desire to run
causes me pain to deny.

But how can one know
what one really wants?
We often learn this last,
mistaking it for the first.

And so, wisdom whispers to me,
stilling my heart and bids me stay.
For what is here cannot be discarded
else it be lost forever.

I wish I knew what I wanted.
I wish I knew why
I dream of roaming under a clear night sky.
I wish I knew.