Wouldn't it be wonderful to wear
The wearied robes of a wayward wanderer?
To be without worry
And feel within the wonder of the world.
What more could one want than to wear
The wet and wrung robes of the woeless?
I, for one, would love such a freedom.
To move west or east at my own discretion,
Without a care or a weighty fetter
To shackle my ankles to the ground.
All there would be to see,
Is one free being: me!
But no modern world
Would allow such a wonder
To be granted unto anybody.
The next new world may hold
The key to wearyless wonder perchance,
Whence the old ways have gone,
And all that is left is the new!
But for now, only for now,
We'll live in this wearying world
And die in it too.
YOU ARE READING
Not From Chicago.
PoetryThis is a collection of my best poetry in my opinion! I hope you enjoy, whoever may paint their eyes over the letters and words I've arranged! PS-This book includes poems from "A World In Words" by yours truly. Go check out the other book, if you li...
