Look Around, but not too long

Christ. I know, relax and breath in. The spinning will stop. But the road calls out in languish, and the fear holler back. They want me to stay, then like me here, the voices whimper then shout. You are comfortable, you are home, everything shall be alright, the chorus continues. Though I wonder. Like an shade I float among the scenery, effecting the interplay of light and dark, but despite the obvious effect I have on the landscape, I am not of it. Were i too root myself not, so early, it would not be a discovery, or a journey, but a flow to a new familiar, a slide to a smaller port. New things soon become old. For all the allure of a simple life of aesthetic indulgence, it is not my time. The horizon calls, and I shall answer.