The churning within grows.
The simple acoustic guitar echoes in the distance.
I find myself wondering just how much longer I'm going to be out here.
Stranded from my purpose.
Stranded from my goals.

The churning within grows.
The playing grows more involved and energetic.
I can feel the sun on me, its gentle kiss beginning to burn.
I stand up and start pacing back and forth, flattening out the long-neglected overgrown grass.
I don't know what I'm doing here.
I should go, and yet I stay.

The churning within grows.
At last, the guitar begins to quiet down.
The sun fades away, allowing the sky to sink into dusk.
I sit down, but my emotional itch stays, twitching its way out through my bouncing leg.
I have to be here for just a short time longer.
It's just a short time longer, and yet I long to go.