On my way.

I saunter past the mortal remains of yet another Saturday street market.

My confident swagger turns to a jig within the fallout area of the car speakers blaring hip hop with Arabic echoes of Zingarian modes. I'm ready to hop 'n bop.

On my way to meet you.

Aware of the likelihood of 10^-250, I feel a few zeroes drop from the right of that particular comma. Call me Fred Astaire.

Someone looks like you in the distance. Alas, just in the distance...

Disheartened? Well, a little, but I'll wait another hour.

Then, I'll have The Restless Wilf at the Hobgoblin, to amuse the wait, I'll keep looking at the door, that is a given.

A good friend who came to my rescue many times does so again, his verse of blood, battle and endless wandering...

J.R.R. Tolkien.
"The road goes ever on"

"Roads go ever ever on,
Over rock and under tree,
By caves where never sun has shone,
By streams that never find the sea;
Over snow by winter sown,
And through the merry flowers of June,
Over grass and over stone,
And under mountains in the moon.

Roads go ever ever on,
Under cloud and under star.
Yet feet that wandering have gone
Turn at last to home afar.
Eyes that fire and sword have seen,
And horror in the halls of stone
Look at last on meadows green,
And trees and hills they long have known.

The Road goes ever on and on
Down from the door where it began.
Now far ahead the Road has gone,
And I must follow, if I can,
Pursuing it with eager feet,
Until it joins some larger way,
Where many paths and errands meet.

The Road goes ever on and on
Down from the door where it began.
Now far ahead the Road has gone,
And I must follow, if I can,
Pursuing it with weary feet,
Until it joins some larger way,
Where many paths and errands meet.
And whither then? I cannot say.

The Road goes ever on and on
Out from the door where it began.
Now far ahead the Road has gone.
Let others follow, if they can!
Let them a journey new begin.
But I at last with weary feet
Will turn towards the lighted inn,
My evening-rest and sleep to meet.

Still 'round the corner there may wait
A new road or secret gate;
And though I oft have passed them by,
A day will come at last when I
Shall take the hidden paths that run
West of the Moon, East of the Sun."