Author Information
Quest
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Wandering Now I, the weary wanderer,
top the mountain crest,
and pause anew to ponder
the meaning of my quest.
Why did I leave my native land,
forsake my kith and kin,
to walk along the foreign strand
and chase the wayward wind?
I left behind my bonnie lass,
long locks of auburn gold,
my heart, my hearth, my own green grass,
sheep grazing in the fold.
The lonely road is beckoning,
once more around the bend.
There is no goal, no reckoning,
who knows where it will end.
Late at night,
by fire's low light,
I'll unpack my regrets.
I'll hold them close,
taste sweet remorse,
repeat the old not-yets.
Come the dawn,
I'll be gone,
shouldering my load.
I'll sing my song,
yesterday's gone,
today's an open road.
Some men are meant to stay at home
and keep the ancient ways.
Other men are meant to roam
until the end of days.
