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The Nomad of Souls
Folder:
Misc./Exp. Out of the shadow came the dream.
Dream, it could never be a vision.
Vision something beyond having a mission.
Mission presented to masses giving new definitions.
Definitions lack taste in the gullets of the ethral ones.
Ones that hold meaning seldom presented in purest forms now.
Now here comes the grasping.
Grasping out from deep in the night.
Night enwrapped the nomad slips on in mystery.
Mystery that he even dares when felt is so much apathy.
Apathy the one thing he loathes so, yet to live the beast he
must be.
Be what you shall the wise one said.
Said to the nomad always words that hold too much.
Much of his time spent in unknown ways, never revealing.
Revealing would end the magick worked for so many which he
creates for.
For now it's seen no more can he but ask.
Ask not for nothing shall be there in the end.
End it all now and deemed nothing but a falseness of what he
claimed.
Claimed was nothing but of simple granting joys.
Joys so far away yet so too near.
Near he rides the steed by in a cloud of enigmatic reasons.
Reasons, surely he hath those but to what they are he allows no
one knows.
Knows does he that even with nothing there it's but to ask and
find it returned.
Benjamin K. Badgley
Wednesday June 27, 2001
