The Wanderer

The Wanderer He wanders along on a path, of his own choosing Seeking the wisdom to all life's winning and losing He ambles along free, without a worry, not a care at all His quest, though a simple one, now he cannot recall A man of solstice, the only life he has ever known This life is his, the only path his mind can condone Always travels light, warm clothing to still the nights chill A way to lay his head, a bed on the road, this is his life still Set up a fire, to heat his sup and warm his travel weary bones Rest by the dancing light, shadows creep into darkness alone He stares into the fire, the cracking eases his very soul Flames dance, the kaleidoscope mesmerizing him whole Waking to the dawn of a new morn, the chill of a morning dew Shivering, yawning, rubbing his eyes from last nights reside Packing up what few belongings he cares to own Reading for another day of solemn travels alone He stays away from where people may mill about As he ambles along his lonely, solemn walkabout Another day, with Mother Earth, his one and only companion Travelling aimlessly through mountain sides and canyons Some distant memories, days long ago haunt him from time to time Thoughts of a different life, faint and fleeting, lost in a paradigm Seems so surreal, unsure of all these memories can be really true Perhaps just a vivid lost dream, where imagination and reality skew He walks his path, till he can walk no more He walks this still, no other life to explore He walks, nothing left for him to inspire He walks till his life breath will soon expire Some people speak of this lonely wandering man Some people wonder, where his wandering began Some people say, no longer he wanders, deaths chill Some people pray, to this very day, he wanders still Some people exclaimed, a wasted life, such a fool was he Some people in awe and reverence, said he was truly free Some people say, our lives, full of stress, hurried day by day Some people wish, they could learn to be like him, in some way