"There is a tide in the affairs of men, which taken at the flood, leads on to fortune."
- Julius Caesar (Act IV Scene 3 line 218) by William Shakespeare
These are the tides of life that I have come to accept. There comes moments of longing, the wanderlust, of a soul that feels restless and must go out to meet the new world, to see new people, and to try new things.
Then comes periods of stillness, the overhwelming desire to find a quiet corner and think, to get away from the crowd and journey into another world no smaller than the one visible.
Either world would take a life time for me to explore, to find my place, to fit myself in and grow into whatever destiny has in store for me. I don't mind turning out badly, I am more afriad of never turning out at all, of never been. How can a tree take root if it keeps getting transplanted?
In real life, the tides of sea is gravitated by the presense of the moon. I wonder to what the tides of my life gravitates. I wonder what drives me.