The Wanderer rises while it’s still dark To get a head start on the sun Who is always on his heels Chasing the horizon And the man “The way is West,” So says the wind West It is always west The Wanderer’s trust wears thin these days, but what else can he do? He cannot stay in this place And he cannot go back For Wanderers, like churning waters, Never settle The way is forward to an unseen home like the Great and many Waters Flow toward the Sea Waiting patiently in the lowest place He walks the earth His skin, his only home His threadbare clothes, his tent Hung on crooked bones His only possession is himself But even he is borrowed For some day he will return to his origin And surrender his dust back to The Great Mother As his life has been sustained by others’ deaths So it will be with him Life for life In an unending circle The Wanderer sets off The sun close on his heels
His only possession is himself
But even he is borrowed
😮
Nice. I love this:
“His only possession is himself
But even he is borrowed
For some day he will return to his origin
And surrender his dust back to
The Great Mother”