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THE WANDERERS


By an Unknown poet

The world is not my own
I am just a passer-by
I’ve got no place to dwell here
I am like an aimless wanderer
A stranger in an alien territory

My days pass swiftly like lightning
Leaving behind echoes of yesterdays’ mistakes
Deafening my conscience like a million thunderbolts
I am only but a weak mortal man
A wasting frame full of faults

Soon I shall return to mother earth
And it shall never be remembered
That once upon a time in this land of exile
Treaded my tiny tired feet
Upon the sands of history and grasses of time

And when my arcane life ceases to be
I shall wake up with neither breath nor sight
Neither my will nor my thoughts shall remain
I shall never see the sun or count the stars again
And the moon shall never light my night

Emptiness in the depth of waste and null
Shall possess the remains of my putrid flesh
But if my sorrow is so great now that I breathe
And if I feel so lone in this world of haste
If I feel thrown at the thoughts of evil

And if I feel discouraged by the affairs of men
What shall be my lot when I sleep to wake no more?
In the land of silence and cold deadliness
I honestly do not know what shall befall me
But I leave those in the hands of the owner of human souls

Let me contend myself with the daily affairs
And the constant business of being real human
Let me find and share some cheery
With those who cross my day daily
Even In the midst of my great uncertainty

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