When I walk, I part the air and glide over moon-kissed terraces: searching. The goal is not love or some temporary pleasure; it holds no comfort or promise; but I am pulled towards it, as the air rushes to fill the void of my wake.
Under my scrutiny, it flees, leading me to pursue it to new heights, and I feel its resistnce though this inspires me. It seems strange that I fret to find this power as surely I hope for peace. However, this paradox is its true nature.
I will never find a start amd shall never knows which ends shall meet from these frayed and confused terminals. My only option is to merge with its path and travel to its destination. For the essence of my quest is luck, the Lady, and Him, my destiny.