Lonesome Traveler

I am the lonesome traveler
walking streets of chaos.
I hear the talkers talking,
voices on the wind
cold and passing.
I sometimes stand beside them,
and eat their ripened fruit.
They are blind to what they seek.
And so, I keep on walking.

I am the lonesome traveler
walking the crowded streets,
balking the vain chatter
of this group and that group
that stand beneath the Sun.
I hear the decorous rhetoric,
chiming through with clarity,
the song of harmonious division.
And so, I keep on walking.

I am the lonesome traveler
walking through the flat lands,
speaking my sound mind
and knowing no one will listen.
Not unlike the others,
I walk beneath the Sun
amidst the wheat and tares.
I am waiting for the setting.
And so… I keep on walking.