The Wanderer




They called him.
Settle down,

Find love,

They told him.
But he was in love,

He said.

He was in love with his freedom.

He was in love,

Not only with the castles of Europe,

Or the forests of Brazil,

The beaches of the Bahamas,

The temples of India,

But all of it as one.
Aren’t you afraid?

They would ask him.

I have nothing to fear, he would say.

For I do not see in colour,

I live not in hate.
Don’t you get lonely?

They would ask him.

I have seven billion friends, he would say.
He would marvel

At the intangible borders,

The divides his people had made

Chains keeping each other

From feeling

The same love he felt

For the state of living,


Seeing not in colour.

A vagabond,

A wanderer

Who never wandered

For the world

Was his home.


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