AN: This is one of five really old poems of mine that I stumbled across when I was moving.

We deviate, we stray.

We diverge, we digress.

We wander the wind.

We twist, we meander.

We veer, we fall.

We ramble, we drift.

We are the wandering children,

The forgotten brood.

We of the earth.

We of the sky.

We who are not.

We of the void.

We who lament to the wind.

We the unheard, unseen , unknown.

Where will we go to free our souls?

Where will we go to give our utterance of hope?

How will we depart this world of dejected effigy?