O Wandering soul, with sorrowed eyes,
Filled with the hope of mystery solved,
But still cast down from fate and from lies,
With no foretelling a time resolved.
What end is it that drives you to wander
With back bent low and voice a murmur.
You toil on roads that cause you to ponder,
Life's mysterious ebbs and fervors.
Separate's your lot? More can you see,
Or so some might say if they would but look.
You're not to be stuck, like the ground to the tree
But to wander free, by hook or by crook.
How can I help or what gift could I send?
Fitting in is the plant that I seed.
But you help me; it's how you say friend,
A time of trouble, you meet my need.
Now you've moved on and still I've wondered
How you changed me and not the other.
To the road you turned with eyes 'gain sundered
With bent back still; a wandering brother.
Filled with the hope of mystery solved,
But still cast down from fate and from lies,
With no foretelling a time resolved.
What end is it that drives you to wander
With back bent low and voice a murmur.
You toil on roads that cause you to ponder,
Life's mysterious ebbs and fervors.
Separate's your lot? More can you see,
Or so some might say if they would but look.
You're not to be stuck, like the ground to the tree
But to wander free, by hook or by crook.
How can I help or what gift could I send?
Fitting in is the plant that I seed.
But you help me; it's how you say friend,
A time of trouble, you meet my need.
Now you've moved on and still I've wondered
How you changed me and not the other.
To the road you turned with eyes 'gain sundered
With bent back still; a wandering brother.
1 comment:
Jiminy Christmas, you've done it, Wold!! This is a really, really fine piece of metre. Seriously, I love it. I knew you had it in ya. Don't stop now! E'er forward, brother!!!
"You're not to be stuck, like the ground to the tree." What a perfect phrase, you old devil.
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