I was flicking through 'Beyond the Fields We Know' and found one of Lord Dunsany's poems that sums up how I feel (and a lot better than I just put it). For someone who tends to steer clear of poetry in genre fiction... Well, that's starting to change. Have a read,
What are those hills so strange that stand
Where I knew none before?
Are they the slopes of Fairyland
Above the fields of yore?
How long, how long, we thought of it
As fabulous and far;
And is it now before me, lit
By light of no known star?
It may be so, I shall not ask
Of any man the way;
Those hills are far beyond our task
And, sought for, fade away.
It is enough that in the change
Of light from sun to moon
I have one moment seen that range
That will float homewards soon.
Homewards to where those towers stand,
And where those mountains rise,
That do not rest in any land,
And know none of our skies.
That is the home I travel t'wards,
Though well this truth is conned,
That if I ever find its swards
My quest will lie beyond.
Lord Dunsay is talking about the horizons that I'm looking towards right now. Unlike him though, it's not enough for me to merely have seen them; I want more than that and that's why I'm always looking for that next horizon (or mountain range) to head for next. If you're anything like me then I reckon you are too. If you stop by, every now and then, to tell me about your travels then I'll keep talking about mine :o)