SOUL WANDERER

Can the Sun that dies every evening wall my wanderings,

Or birth of moon in night provide me new roads to travel.

Time with its petty fate may shackle and prison me sometime,

Yet with the long lance of road, shall I keep on overwhelming further realms.

What childishness strives me that up to the last breath,

I travel and keep on rushing to see the sun other way around from dawn to dusk.

Sight of roads snaking down amongst the crimson trees,

Watch tiny little birds fleeing by , or the hills looking like hulls of ships,

and the clouds seems like a wide and deep sea.

To the arched stoneworks, framed majestically and green grass soothing my eyes .

Or the feel of a rustic filling station , with long lost songs playing from a radio,

Or the sound of a bird perched atop a long lost temple on the road,

Or the smell of ground before the rain , with a synchronized clatter of the rain,

And ensuing silence after the rain, with creeky insects and frogs  echoing.

Lingering on , accelerating forward without a sense of direction,

 With withered leaves and sand whirling in hot air,

Sight of a shepherd boy lazily under the banyan tree,

Flickering shadows of different lengths passing by with the speed,

and grass and flowers shining forward in the dusk.

Sipping coffee and observing a spider web, there hinges reeling heavily and crazily with dust,

A distant shadow of cloud emerged on the ground ,like a lady slender and perched,

Showing daylight through her shoulders and ruins crumbling on her side,

In purity like she has descended, inside the earth, to bathe herself.

I travel with my thoughts and a pen , have to write about children , women and men,

I travel to new places mix with many races, identifying tribes by colors and girls by their laces.

No headlights behind me and no tail lights in front of me ,

And animals jumping in oblivion as soon they come in front of my headlight,

Some mile markers and stop signs, but no one to speak and listen to.

Time to find a place to rest, when the moonlight brighten my tired face,

A shacky bed on a roadside place, or an open bed under the sky,

Have to travel south and have to travel west, have to find a road that is best.

Coming to a crossroad in my dream, to take left or to take a right or venture straight,

Wherever the road leads me , but I will continue to ride because I like .

There is still much to travel, like a distance same between life and death,

What use is this life, if no imaginations make my legs run,

This unending thirst that I would never quench,

The bad, good and the ugly , every experience equivalent to life’s journey.