Wanderlust

He who wanders once,
May grow to lust the wandering.
It shall be sufficient, shall entertain.
That much thrill will a pattern hold,
With the same path and same goal,
Tis’ the same old; Like crumpled nuptials,
Genesis unrolls, wearing at the folds,
All within the bed’s throws.
How rapid he finds it grows cold,
And lo, the hunt for more coals.
The ripples go and go.
He who wanderlusts grows old
Before love is ever known.