I am the wanderer ( after guardian)

 

 

I am the wanderer  (  after guardian)

 

I am not a home bird confined

within the precincts of four walls,

tuning on viola pouring all melody

of my angst of past and magnifying

now into a disastrous gloom;

 

I am a wanderer from a land

Of immense glory and good tillage

Where copious flow  and freedom

In every hearth and home

All now  A thing of Past.

 

Now a   hoary land of ghost

Where  desire and avarice

eating alive  every nerve

and mood beyond control

and restraint  a sordid spectacle.

 

Dark  and light, penury and sick

Flow  and glow gleaming into den

All I have seen still wandering

Into a land of uncertainty

Clinging  on only to Hope and survival.