He wanted to find out the truth,
Some part that he could understand,
And so he traveled through the land
A roving, wisdom-seeking sleuth

But found most ‘truth’ mere children’s toys,
These games designed for our delight;
He struggled through the day and night
To hear the music ‘neath the noise

For clamor then was everywhere:
The crowds in lengthening array
Were lost in popular display,
While truth, a dying tree, grew bare

He still seeks after Lord-knows-what,
While traveling from sea to sea,
In search of some integrity,
And why he’s such an idiot

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Beleaguered Servant

Owen Servant is an online poet working in a style that's been described as "compulsive". In real life, he is an actuary, because being a poet wasn't unpopular enough.

5 thoughts on “Wanderer”

  1. Another jumble of words most beautifully brought to order by your hand. I love this one.

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