In the early morning’s chill
When the sun begins to rise
Lighting the lonely road I take
Under flawless, blushing skies
Along that morning pilgrimage
A man passes by—
Nothing odd about his image
Save the look within the eye
He throws a melancholy glance—
A slight nod of the head, meeting just my eye—
Something morosely beautiful behind—
As shattered glass against the sky
The electric windows
Reflect some time long gone
A time of life and hope and sorrow
And without a word, he wanders on.
Again the morning sun begins to rise
And lo!
Are the heavy, shattered, lidded eyes...
I wonder why he wanders so.
His name and trade I know not
For he lets slip not even a breath—
Perhaps even he’s forgot
To think of life beyond pain of death.
And every dawn I see my wanderer
Ambling— misery ‘pon his face—
But with purpose in his step— wandering in search
Of a lifetime out of place.