Nomad

I stumble blindly over the rocks on this path I chose.

I meet many travellers on my journey; most are friendly, and we share smiles or a joke, a meal or a toke. But few of them journey with me very far.

I open my heart to many of them. They find me attractive somehow. They ask, “How come you travel alone? How come someone hasn’t taken up with you yet?” I struggle for an answer, but one is never forthcoming. Eventually, I guess they find their own answer, because none of them journey with me very far.

Though this pain marks me, changes me subtly every time, my heart remains open to them each and all. Some travellers I meet again on my journey. I ask them about their journey, and they tell me with great excitement. But I never get to tell them about mine, because they seldom journey with me very far.

A few, precious few, other travellers, have camps where they welcome me. Perhaps they are like me, or I them. They are rangers of a sort, shepards. They are welcome in my camp, as I theirs. We provision each other, and share the night watch. There is a communion among the solitary found. But the nature of this relationship is that one cannot stay long. We do not journey together very far.

So now I have left the trail. I trailblaze, I pathfind, while my heart heals from losing yet another. But I stumble over the horizon to see a new day dawning, and I spy the path up ahead. So I prepare to meet another, but expect to win the race alone, because.