Stop running. That wouldn't be good enough. I had to stop being afraid. - Bruce Coville

Across the gently rolling hills,
Beyond high mountain peaks,
Along the shores of distant seas,
There's something my heart seeks.

But there's no peace in wandering,
The road's not made for rest.
And footsore fools will never know
What home might suit them best.

But, oh, the things that I have seen,
The secret paths I've trod,
The hidden corners of the world
Known to none but me and God.

Yes, the world was meant for knowing,
And feet were meant to roam.
But one who's always going
Will never find a home.

Oh, where's the thread that binds me,
The voice that calls me back?
Where's the love that finds me — And what's the root I lack?

"We stood at the top of the stairs and looked down. Neither of us moved. I had a feeling we were each waiting for the other to go first.
"Dark down there," said Chris after a while.
"Sure is," I said. I was squinting down the steps, trying to make something out.
"Person might get hurt, stumbling around."
"Sure could," I said.
"They ought to keep it better lit."
"Sure should," I said, getting ready to turn around and leave.
"Well, let's get on with it," said Chris. She started walking down the stairs.
I couldn't believe it! I thought she had been trying to talk herself out of going down there. The truth was, she had just been building up her courage.
Now I had to build up mine!"

But, really, why does anyone create? You feel a...a restlessness inside, a need to make something new, something no one has ever seen before. You want to add to the beauty and the richness of the world with a gift, an offering that is uniquely yours. It's an act of selfishness and generosity, all rolled into one.