Aided by the cane; rose he anon,
He limps as he tramped on,
Deck he a gray kerchief on his neck,
Marred with crimson speck.
A leather pouch on one shoulder,
A water jar hung across the other.
With a hat worn out & boots ridden with holes
He treads on, seeking the unknown goals
As a youth he blazed a different trace,
In an unsafe world, sought he a safe place.
Traversed all sphere in the quest,
Search for a nest to rest.
The solace he sought him evades
Elusive for many decades, his strength fades
Yet he persistently sought the unknown trail,
Many huddles crossed to no avail.
With a broken body & aching heart
He deserts his probe torn apart,
By the pursuit in an untruthful realm of truths
Which remain elusive to all truth sleuths.
Jettisoned all he had to go after the chase,
He returned broken, beat and hope efface
But to the embers of hope he cleft
Starving for the unknown more than he left.
He seeks the Truth...that,
Is a smoke, a vapor,
A Mist, an illusion;
Ab incunabulis had He chased it,
But never had he touched
The hem of its garment.
But bond himself with an oath,
Come what may, to seek the truth
But how can this be,
When what he sought he knew not?
There are many without blot
By the same sworn, and nothing but death
Can do them part, from that which they seek
Dave BenOdafe's Other Poems
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