Those who wander

are not always lost.

I follow the path unfolding

with eyes half open.

The glory of every detail-

the way the sun engulfs every crevice and bud

is lost to me.

I am silent, only letting my feet carry me.

Why can weary travelers n’er find rest?

And stop only by chance,

touching so many hearts in silence

and taking every person in only to leave them.

Their peace is found in temporary oblivion.

Always seeking an inner peace-

restlessness fading heart’s ambition.