Over the mountains, across the valleys,
The crowded roads, the dark alleys,
The tranquil rivers, the gushing streams,
He walks them all..with no theme.
No bags on shoulders, No load on head,
No place to start, no target ahead,
No clothes to carry, No material wealth,
Walking freely..walking without stealth.
No family he has, No friends he'll make,
No secrets to keep, no vows to break,
No profession to sustain, no money to hide,
Life, for him, is an aimless ride.
He knows no happiness, knows no sorrow,
Pain's an alien entity, emotions hollow,
His brain's free, heart's a rock,
He walks to live...Lives to walk.
His eyes see, but it's a blank sight,
His ears listen, but the hearing's light,
His nose smell, but the aroma's bland,
His body feels, but he can't understand.
His life is simple, no complexity,
His life is mundane, no ecstasy,
His life is eternal, no death beyond,
His only identity- A nomadic vagabond.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment