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Zelda Nov 17
Agnostic
wandering temples,  
wondering how the stone still stands—  
cracked and worn,  
weathered by storms,  
by wars,  
by careless hands that pass through.

It’s like a labyrinth you can’t  
exist in—  
feel the hedges,  
understand the spirits,  
quiet the noises,  
balance the highs and lows.

The soul—what is it?  
A natural remedy is still just a remedy.  

A waste of time.  
We both know it—  
it’s not meant to be.

Pragmatic
never believed in happily ever after;  
you did the math—  
and it ends with a soft sound,  
the closing of the temple door,  
a coin flip
We hit the ground.

If I had a nickel for every  
“Meeting you was destiny,”
oh, but was it?  
If I had a nickel for every  
“You deserve to be happy,”
oh, but do I?

We’re two sides of the same coin,  
a dream, a folktale,  
a close call.  
We both know it—  
it’s not meant to be
We hit the ground.

Skeptic
All the sharp turns,  
all the downhill spirals,  
all the A.M. conversations—  
you tell me,  
"We'll get through it"

You held me with your voice,
But the edge cuts

Oh, the way you swore
“We’ll get it right this time.”

I’d rather  
mix ***** with water,  
enough to turn my blood to wine—  
Let's just not debate our religion  
in temples.

There is no solace
When we're agnostic, pragmatic, skeptics

We both know it—  
just another close call,  
wasn’t meant to be.

I only wanted to know your love,  
not wander through temples.
Michael Oct 8
Every day when I walk I look up to the sky
And I wonder, where are they going tonight?
Carried on the contrails of planes passing by,
I dream of where I might go on that flight.
I ask, how did I wind up in this peculiar land?
My passport home, where I feel I’m a stranger
Where proverbial ground moves right where I stand,
I can’t shake this feeling of impending danger.
I look to the contrails, and I just want to fly,
But, wherever they go, I just won’t belong,
Then ... another contrail catches my eye,
And into my daydreams again I am drawn
I wonder if there’s ever a place I’ll call home
Nowhere, or anywhere the contrails might go.
Mark Wanless Sep 1
in this mind
forever wandering
lots of repetition
Strying Jun 12
Wandering a world of traps and likes,
sometimes I stare into the abyss of the blue sky,
and the sun illuminating the garden through the birch trees,
and I wonder if this is happiness.

I wonder how many things I will change in my life,
and I wonder if I'll look back one day and think it was happiness.

I wonder if I will wound up regretting it,
regretting changing myself or my life,
regretting changing my path to fit others' expectations,
or are they my own?

What's left after a person wanders,
wanders and wonders?
the uncertainty around what one's future life will look like based on decisions they are making at the moment
Kris Fireheart Oct 2023
As the curtains,
Begin to close
On my Windowpanes,
Who knows?

I'm so uncertain,
Uncertain,
About the way this goes....

And I've been searching,
I've just been searching,
But for whom,
Nobody knows,

Still I'm uncertain,
'Cause there's so many paths,
I don't know where to go,

If life came
With a manual,
I'd have likely had a home,

Maybe family,  
And maybe friends,
And maybe something of
My own...

Perhaps satisfaction,
Or maybe action,
But tonight I
Ride on alone...

Just a lone wolf,
Still uncertain,
Who wonders
When he'll find
A home...
This poem is dedicated to myself and those like me. The wanderers. The hermits.  The wise ones who choose to discard the monotony of society in exchange for the chance to experience true life on their own terms.

This is dedicated to the Tribes, Still out there, living as we should be,  as one and at peace.
--Kris Fireheart,  Wolfpack tribe, second chair.
I’m starting to believe that this nomadic lifestyle
Ain’t at all for the faint of heart
Thousands of places in so little time
Exhausted but I can’t stop yet as no one place holds extreme value to me
Footprints in the sand tell a story of where I’ve been
Darkness engulfs me and makes it harder to decide where to begin
Perhaps I should just ‘eeny meeny miny mo’ it
Since stopping isn’t nearly as important
Thoughts clutter my walkway like precious gems covered by a recent sandstorm
Disgruntled, I glance out over my shoulder
Listening for the whisper of the wind to call out to me
But wait… I’m getting a head of myself
That’s dangerous when you’re a nomad
Whatever is waiting around the next bend
A mystery waiting to be unveiled
Like a grieving widow, mourning her sanity
I run
Disjointed from reality
I feel no pain
Opinions stabbing me like shards of glass
Dripping with the blood of identity
I’m a fraud… and yet, on I run
The tears I’ve cried flow through this deserted land like the Nile
It’s ingenious
They nurture my steps
A suckling waiting to be fed
I travel the worn path
night and day day and night
Stopping only to mark my place
I’ve been here before
And I never even left the comfort of my bed
This journey of a thousand steps
Inside my ever restless mind
Melody Mann Jan 2023
Weary is the wanderer who travels with no true destination,
Hesitant is the past he's abandoned home,
Unconscious is his pursuit with no avail,
Forgotten is her memory as he treads sporadically; endless turmoil.
Heidi Franke Jul 2022
Helping a child with a mental illness and co-occurring disorder such as substance abuse disorder. Our little diamonds who grow up with a broken mind.

Diamonds are in the rough. How long does it take to mine a diamond?

If you as a parent do not have any tools, you will have bloodied hands and feet  and never will you get to where your child can shine without the addictive source.

Diamonds are found in many ways, but to communicate with the diamond, the ore around it is crushed and milled.

Diamonds repel water, but are drawn to grease.

Expect to get down and ***** when helping your addict, but DO NOT, go into the pit. You will be of no help once you are in.
#diamonds #travel #homeless #sand #mentalillness #Addiction
Slime-God May 2022
Perhaps I have died
On this dimly lit morning
I can't find my soul
Were I not so clumsy perhaps my wandering soul would not stray so far afield

though, indeed, it would still follow you, I merely wish to keep up
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