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
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