Drifter

My mind has packed it's napsack
Hitched a ride somewhere
Place to place it goes
Doesn't stop here or there
Like a drifter,
not bound by time or agenda.
A freedom without purpose,
a trap in it's own regard.
Percepection has occupied the only limit.
As all around is only sight,
and image rendered by understanding.
Touch is nothing tangible,
just a sensory projection.
Drifting nomad mind,
you move in hopes of finding self
in an existential wasteland.
Nothing here but barren prose.
Drifter, you are weary.
It's time to wander home.