Nomad of the Centuries

Awake, alone, the hours after midnight when thoughts like gypsy spirits roam about the world, traveling through past, present and blank future-- no maps, no boundaries, no roads. Free to roam, a nomad of earth's centuries, along unbarred corridors, uncharted seas, viewing both the close and distant perspectives of nations, thrones, and kings, captain of a time kaleidoscope turning in the curious capsule of my head. What could we be and see if not restrained by gray barred cells of time and place? Would wisdom rule because we ascertain the whys of old cultures' swift declines? I doubt we would choose any better even if we knew all there is to know; we would find we are determined rebels, for we are fallen beings after all. Copyright, August 27, 2014 Faye Lanham Gibson