Poem - The Wanderer

[kokopelle]

The poem “The Wanderer” started out as a poem about time. It became a poem about my public and private faces, and how creative interaction with others is a benefit to me.


The Wanderer
Poem for Day 149 – 20150529

My life has become a mystery,
a puzzle house of many rooms.
Young and old of equal merit
mirror me as I roam these halls.
I am viewed from several sides.
a masque for each occasion there.
I have roles to which I cater
as life's expectations are met.

There dances the young companion,
merely seeking one of same heart.
I indulge as the steps move as one
to a tune older than all combined.
Peers speak to a professional,
master of work's arcane things.
Thoughts and theories spin about
with joined industry as the plan.

There is another resident,
a recluse to the outward occupants,
shown to few of those who peer
into the pitch of a madman's soul.
Age shows no favor for this one,
the press of shadow always there,
back to the young journeyman,
forward to the aged statesman.

The broken one wanders and weeps,
life's debris filling the spaces
choking the soul's corridors
where creation's light should shine.
These aspects are all of the same,
result of life's joys and terrors.
I've felt twin emotion to the sights,
and wondered if I could carry on.

But know this kind reader here,
the broken are healed in light of day.
Your engagement in my domain
solves puzzles that confuse all men.
We may dance, or we may plan,
drawing out the hidden one.
Expressed in prose by your solicit,
I stand more whole by your kind visit.

© 2015. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved