The Wanderer

Sometimes I wonder
if anyone’s watching
how despair torments
 the lone wanderer
  Under the quiet moonlight
  a currency of shadows
  encircles him
  sinking him deeper and deeper
  the surface of life is on the verge to seal shut
   He watches those around him
  carry the same strangeness
  dreadful in the shallowness
  of their damaged hearts
  One thing was certain,
 The morning storm
 couldn’t distract him from his voyage

  The wanderer cries silently
  not for the loneliness
  that accompanies him
  but for the pity that rains his soul.
  Embarking on his darkest chapter
  the blackened clouds
  the only compass
  he can trust

  Profoundly engrossed
  In his own self-styled
  ethical standards and ideal religion
The wanderer takes no notice
 of the wheel works of rays
 in the sun that shines brokenly
 or the moonlight that hides his identity
 His heart moans for hyperactive temptations
The Wanderer knows that there is no easy path to happiness
So for now he’ll endure the dangers
until the end of time

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