Moving

When we are full, we’re dull and yawning.

The best of days is one of longing.

There is a goal, and we see through it,

and yet the journey’s why we do it.

Our goal’s to rest where sky is open,

and campfire’s lit and bread is broken.

Right where we get a single night in,

our dreams will sing and stars will brighten.

Break camp, break camp! The sun is rising.

There is no end on our horizon.