Ode to a Traveler

Ode to a Traveler


Wake up!… You city dwellers,

and laborers of the dollar;

Your senses have been blighted

till you can no longer smell the sea,

or hear a flower.

 

Remove from your prisons

of freeways and mile-high towers,

or your existence will be counted

not in years, but in hours.

 

If you really try to look,

and really look to try,

You’ll surely succeed in escaping

from the desolation of which I cry.

 

Just go out in the country if I may advise;

sit in a field with the lilacs and blue skies.

Nothing will happen unless you tarry awhile,

So be not inpatient: Relax;

soon mother nature will beguile.

 

Let your eyes light upon the birds,

and your body feel the earth;

then you’ll hear the story of your soul,

then you will know rebirth.

 

You can give your all, all in vain;

so you must stop pushing

then a little of you will remain;

and your troubles may cease

‘neath a lifting fog or soft-falling rain.

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