He yearned for the known.
For so long now, he had walked unfamiliar roads. He thought of home. He felt like going home.
The sun was shining bright that glorious afternoon. He felt cool, however, under the mountain shade. Far, he could see the sun, light up the grass, and the small trees enjoying each ray of light that attempted to make way through their dense leaves. The leaves played with the light like little children in a park, and bounced it off each other, eventually allowing the light to pass through them.
He leaned his weary back against a rock.
He wondered why he had left home, to begin with – what made him take this long journey? Is purpose guided by an absence or by a presence? He smiled at the irony of what he felt. There was always a lot of love at home, always a hot meal and a warm bed. Was he travelling away from something he always had – in search of the same thing?
Was his journey to be just a huge circle?