Muse

Wanderlust

A rambler once walked a long dusty road
He started out young. No family, no home.
He travels alone not a friend to his name;
Acquaintances went as soon as they came.
He slept beneath the bright colored skies
Watching the stars, the moon, and fireflies.
He walked many miles, saw dozens of faces.
At times he counted miles, other times paces.
He couldn't stay long in any one place,
After a day or so he was on his way.
Walking for years through cities and towns,
Watching the people and things that he'd found.
He watches the families so loving and kind.
Imagines the day he'll leave the road behind.
He watches the lovers in happy embrace
Dreams how it feels to kiss another's face.
He looks down at his feet blistered and torn.
Disgusted, he kicks the dust with great scorn.
Screams, "Why do I walk so tired and lonely?
Now, see my feet! All battered and comely.
None would have me. I am cast aside.
I can't bear this lot, or take one more stride."
He lays and weeps alone on the trail.
His body so weary, tired, and frail.
Soon, the night leaves, he arises with candor.
All gloom gone, he starts off with great ardor.
He stared at the sun rosy and tinted.
Off the tall mountains around it glinted.
He looks down at the path he had hated;
Set to his task into a run he bolted.
"This road is mine! I care not where it leads!
I shall meet men of all colors and creeds,
And I shall tell of this road I've been on.
I'll say with chest out, "My race, it is run!"
He runs every day, and he sleeps all night.
Traversing the road till he runs out of light.
Years later, he's surrounded by listeners.
They sit in awe as he fondly remembers.
His body looks weary, old from the road.
But his eyes shine, and joy exits his throat.
He tells of being beaten, all but killed;
About valleys, ridges, mountains, and hills.
Yet said with a smile as he recounts the days
Of walking so tired, confused and so dazed.
"That road would have killed me, if it'd a mind.
Again and again, for days it has tried!
But here I am! I conquered that road!
I've become a man carrying this load.
My lot was not a great one, I admit.
For my journey I was not well equipped.
Yet! I finished the course I set out upon.
Now, my life has meaning. The pain is gone.
Still I walk that tired, dirty, old road.
From it's trials I've learned and grown.
This path has brought trials, tears, and pain,
But - if any would ask me - I'd do it again.