In ceaseless motion, they wander and roam,
A restless spirit, forever calling home.
From job to job, from love to love, they stray,
Never anchoring, never staying.

Their hearts, a canvas, painted with fleeting hues,
No colors blending, no shades of blues.
Their souls, a puzzle, with pieces never whole,
No completeness, no sense of control.

Like autumn leaves, they drift, without a tree,
No roots to cling to, no branches to be.
Their lives, a tapestry, woven with disparate threads,
No cohesive pattern, no single, guiding dreads.

In this endless quest, they search for the unknown,
A sense of purpose, a place to call their own.
But like a mirage, it vanishes in the...