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He has tread his path alone
He will tread his path alone
You know he hates name and fame
He wishes to remain unknown
For You too are Unknown
He wishes to go towards You
Please don't stop his heartbeats at this juncture
He wishes to fulfill his some important responsibilities
Later if You willed he wishes to be a wanderer
Moving across lands and oceans
You know he doesn't  even wish to put the burden of his death on anyone
He just wishes to get lost and vanished in unknown trails to be one with You
You the UNKNOWN
Wanderers in ochre robes
Wander across hills and mountains bare foot
In their quest for truth
Thorns prickling their feet
Heat and frost burning their skin
They are often ridiculed
What makes them so crazy
That they find beauty of life out of sync
May be they have seen life rife with so much strife
That they have nothing to whine
Or may be it is their spiritual might
Which is difficult to attain otherwise
Or may be they tillage the essence of life by pillaging self pride
Or may be they polish the unpolished side of life and make bright the dark inside
Who verily knows
What is right
Let them live their lives
Let us live our lives
CMXIClement Jun 14
Alone he walks down a rocky road,
shadow scattered with winding turns.
With canvas sacks he carries this load.
While eyes fall sleepy and muscles burn.

Each step taken with intention,
To reach the end of this twisted path.
Each step fueled by retention
of memories from distant past.

Alone he walks, as shadows laugh.
Nocturnal creatures stare, and jeer.
His lonely journey a social gaffe,
He takes solace behind a stoic veneer.

He never had roots, as the trees beside him.
But he met other caiteoiri along the way.
He spoke with them in moonlight dim,
With unspoken knowing that they would stray.

Not well understood, this roving man.
But those that tried could see his heart.
A vagabond that most have banned.
For reasons only seen in part.

Cricket chirps, they sound then subside
as he nears them along the crooked way.
They pick back up with distance wide.
He can sense the awful things they say.

He did not ask for this nightly trek.
Or to carry the burden of this sailcloth sack.
Sympathy is rarely a prospect.
Some folks never wander this stony track.

Some will say they understand,
but those that do, they know the truth.
That to say such things is sleight of hand.
No one can really know but you.
Manish Anne May 24
Spit out thunder,
Fortress of emotions,
Buried deep under

With every beat that drops,
Pounding in my heart,
Dancing with me

Moonlight drives, crimson
Red painted sky,
I sense drama everywhere
Draws me to the truth

And when Nature,
Holds your hand
And says, darling
The founder is you,
This is your race
Church Rowe May 10
Shoeless,
in a forest,
insects on my toes.
Have I lost it?
It’s better if I don’t think for so long.
I might stop it,
sabotage it,
before I make it home.

Don’t put that spell on me,
now that I’m free.

Boneless,
in a casket;
washed out to salty sea.
Sun-baked, I’m awake,
but again, it’s just me.
Two times, I have tried
to steer away
from a lake that bears my name,
but now that I’m awake,
the notion just don’t feel the same.

Have I lost we,
now that I’m free?

Weightless,
and dateless.
Lost in time and space.
Doesn’t matter where we begin
so long as it doesn’t end.
I stay in place as everything floats away;
running as if chased.
Lasso the sun or the moon
to rocket me to some other rat race.

If I’ve lost we,
then, so be.
See the song video: https://youtu.be/LKm9g3MayDk
Grey Apr 19
My heart once drummed a steady tune
Thump...
                 thump...
                                 thump...
Like a contented wanderer it continued on,
s l o w
steady
repeating, repeating, repeating.

But like the wanderer, it sensed you
a disturbance in the equilibrium.
The drum solo arrived, a fast-paced melody

         p
     a     i
  e          n
l                g
                        racin­g
                                      beating
                 ­                                     singing.
                   ­                                                   And then...
                                                         ­                                   stopping.
Only to continue again,
just as quick, throbbing just the same.

But.

This time...

The wanderer sensed danger.

This time...

The adrenaline filled my veins
as you filled my gaze
and it was too late.
4/19/2020
It's been a rough day. I'm super stressed and anxious. My brain knows that it's probably over nothing but my head, stomach, and heart think otherwise.
CallMeVenus Mar 4
Days have melted into nights
Nights into nothingness
Nothingness into unlimited infinities
Infinities shift to possibilities
Possibilities give birth to chances I never seem to take
Chances transform to regrets
Regrets end up with nosebleeds.
What I'm trying to say is that
I wonder a lot
And it appears that it has often led me off of the road
I found beauty but I also found a place where Color goes to die.
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