Song of Myself, the Ryan Version

My dreams are changing.
I once dreamed of literature, and travel.
Writing as I flew from place to place.
By myself, no one else to worry about.
Now I yearn for a special person.
That special person, the one who keeps me grounded and alive.
The one that encourages the crazy ideas of my mond, jumping into them with me.
Days have flight have turned to foot, traveling by land from place to place.
Only my pack to pull from and the kindness of foriegn stangers to aid me.
Paris, Rome, London, Dublin - all call my name, urging me on to new dimensions, new heights.
Literature, now gone, have given way to the mind.
But the writing continues, my pen continues.
Adding to the verse, the song of my life, the some of no tune.
Of mismatched words that make no sense except unto me.
Never the same, always changing the words, the dreams, even myself.
But never the person with me.