Wanderer

All who wander are not lost. Perhaps they are found.

There is a certain freedom awarded to those few,

Who refuse to settle within any confines of society.

The wise and fools alike, they scour the great Earth,

In search of the Mother herself, or maybe seek themselves.

Why else would our lungs resemble that of the tree?

Our souls cannot find a home among suburbs or city,

Nor farm, or any other class which seeks to define us. Our Self.

This is precisely why the richest just keep getting richer,

And travel the world in pursuit of passion, following the wind

Of money, abundance, health, and the Mother Herself.

“No, not all who wander are lost,” the Mother tells me,

“It is those who do not know me, who will be lost,

forever.”

And that is all she said before tucking me in for

the night and disappearing with the wind.

“I’ll Wander the Earth until I find you again.”

I said. And my eyes remained opened.