Thursday, October 3, 2013


The Distant Drums
By Scott Raven

I can hear the beating of distant drums,
Imagination fueling the possibilities of life beyond my reach.
Softly and rhythmic, the sound of another culture runs through my mind like a deep river,
Lustfully beckoning my belonging.

A distant busyness taunts my solitary existence,
My limited abilities thicken my thirst for exploration,
And the time has come to drop excuses and run,
Run away from normality and towards a land where one's name is absent.

Despite ingrained passion, this vital desire remains nothing more than a distant hope,
much like a star we wish upon which is forever out of reach.
The far flung drums remain forever far away.

I have seen little of the Earth and her perpetual immensity,
Yet I know out there, hidden in plain sight lies my final resting spot,
And it ties me like an anchor in an ocean of possibilities.

All the while, the voice heard when all senses are stripped can tell,
My body belongs in a place I do not know.
It screams at me: Am I not meant for more?

I am homesick for a place I have never been,
Yet despite the distance from this real fantasy,
I can still hear the beating of their drums.

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Scott Raven from Buckinghamshire, England.


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