PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

I wander alone.

Keep to myself,

Constantly searching for another.

Though I don’t feel,

And I have no appeal,

I don’t see why people even bother.

I look down at my veins.

They pulse and pump within

My arms and throat.

I step into the shade

Of a tree which I love

And lay below its leaves.

Its gentle rustle, summer bustle

High above my head, heart, mind, and soul.

Amidst the breeze, I feel disease,

That lays in wait of my strong yet gentle touch.

I close my eyes just for a bit  

And take in all the buzzing summer sounds.

I awake in the suns low light,

as it sets away for sleep in the horizon.

I try to find my peace of mind,

Just to discover that I’ve lost it.

And so I pick me up again

In search of that deity which gives me comfort.

For out in the open, I grab hold of the notion

That the sickness I sense will grow near.

So I walk, then jog, then run.

First off just for safety then later out of fear.

Within the evenings gentle light I do my best to find my way.

Try to find, my old dear friend the tree which under neat I lay.

I wander the lands in search of the day,

The moon though much better, cannot find my stay.

I ramble past mountains, through rain and snow

Then find my way back down to the valleys and hills below.

At last, after years I find it as it is.

Bigger, fuller, a place for me to rest.

Again, like old time, I lay my pack and cap

Then lay my side against it and go back to sleep.

Years have I spent seeking this tree that shields me so,

And years have I been running from the death that stalks my soul.

But underneath the being, which is planted where it wants,

I feel a sound, solid, solitude which I cannot my own self hold.

My eyes they close again slowly, my breath begins to slow.

Its roots now plant themselves, permanently not to move.

My heart it murmurs ever slowing till finally it stops.

No more will the tree move, nor wander the land in sorrow.

For I am its friend, and never will leave, today, the last, and tomorrow.

It wandered the earth in a darkening circle, leaving it dying leaves scent in the air.

I smelled them for years, but finally found it, so now it can eternally live.

At last it has found a friend to live by, its found a companion in me.

And I at last wont wander alone, found a love back in the shadow of the wandering tree.