The Wanderer


A walk to the light,
May not always be paved by a road…
The winds and the rocks,
And the songs of the birds,
Steer you gently towards the friendly ford…!
And thence a voice from the skies herald,
‘Not all those who wander are lost,
For it is the mountains who to them accost’!

Summoned at the arrival of the untamed warmth,
The tormented soul burns with anguish to explore…
The reaches of its depths,
And the lock to its chambers,
When the violent winds order him to soar…
And the heaving soul thence declares,
‘My answers are not on the roads they take,
I ain’t the one to walk the paths they made’!

The resfeber of the curious rover,
Bursts out in a fulminant melody…
It giggles and it swivels,
As it wheels on the golden earth,
For the soul has, at last, discovered to cherish its singularity…
Paint me purple, it squeaks with glee,
As the soft whistles of the evening play,
Recite remembrances of the day.

I live with the mountains, And I talk to the stones,
I glare a bewildered stare, as they tell me their story,
Of how they rose,
From the crust to the waters to, now, the heavens,
Gifted with a golden crown of undefeated glory…
Hear! The roaring sound of the sentinel conqueror scream,
‘He who is lost is not always looking for the way,
For he revels in the sound mystery of mirth and dismay’!

I am joyous like the playful water, I am free,
Untamed like the fire in the skies…
I am limitless like the aether, I am indefinite,
Unrestrained like the winds…
I am whole, I am part, I belong to no one like the spirit that never dies…
I am one, I am many, Oh! Way too many,
And with armed spirits I walk on, for I am, Oh! Sir,




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