Lonely Traveller


What use, friend, is leaving your friends
the only ones who keep us calm
on the stage of life with curtains down
after all, in the end?

For our short way is so uncertain
travelling this way and that
with days that each could be your last;
this is a human’s heavy burden.

What use, then, is saying goodbye
an age too soon and heading out
to search for others in manic bouts
of confidence all given the lie?

If this is how I am, and it seems,
then staying home, hearty and bold
not wasting away, but growing old
with more certain help and joys for me:
this is how I know to be.


Perhaps, friend, let it lie
for given time your buzz will fade
vent of that particular haze
and your uncertain being, gentrify.

For though uncertain, life is full
and all the others there will wait
until returned and all with haste
to feel the light again and choose:

To sometime perhaps, say goodbye
sometime that suits, and fly again
to see what comes, what alien
experience will beckon – ‘try’.

We are the change we aim to tell.
And leaving home, hearty and bold
not wasting away, but growing old
with the wonder of the world to delve;
and with the journey, make ourselves.

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Send your life out in multiple directions like a galaxy shedding stars. Always come back to hope and try to thrive. All posts, (poems, stories, essays, etc.) here are composed by my hand, unless noted otherwise. Please ask if you'd like to use one.

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