Motionality

if I could but reach a little bit further, the Baltic winds, the Irish Sea, not even the Atlantic could my need for misgivings divide what a trespass to be whole! let no thing restore my soul not swells of madness, nor gladness proliferating in form of second chances stockpiled in veneration of the return let not my feet ingratiate the hums beneath the home-lit flooring after peaking Tetnuldi or even Cairn Gorm. because what is peace but the absence of being driven? let sleep be my portion of that place, and life in motion be its own recompense