Distant traveler I is too much of an ego to behold. Every time that the I thinks of the I, Then it is the I that leaves one cold. Distant and polluted with labels, titles, And characteristics that fall into categories of their own. How does the I know if it is being selfless or selfish? Is it the I that is the essence of soul? I is detached and separated, And finding nature as it roams. Where does the I wonder to, In order to find others alone? Why does the I think of the things, And reveal the stories untold? Does the I have a narrative different from self, Or is it the same message that’s getting old? Can all the gods of distant worlds teach I well, until their concepts are sowed into bones? I is the court jester, entertainment for the throne. Tricking queens and kings alike, Only to steal of their gold. I sells its riddles amongst damsels in distress and merry men. If ever I leaves you, never question where its been. I sees the many sights on its path, But never finds a place to call home.
Posted on: Sun, 15 Sep 2013 20:27:57 +0000
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