A good traveler has no fixed plans, and is not intent on arriving.
~ Lao Tzu
homesick for something
I cannot name, for home
beyond all other homes?
I am alone in a foreign land
in love with foreigners
sick of the locals
I do not want to speak
or conform to the customs
of living, sowing, reaping
i search for the Tao
but cannot find it, it evades
my grasp, like the endlessly
awake stars, they do not sleep
for light is bled in rivers
of heaven, like poems
mild-mannered echoing down
the centuries, poorly translated
by tongues who no longer speak
with the ancients, the ragged fringe
to be a rare fellow lost among
the songs, i hear music on the lips
of the clouds, that do not dream
but draw, day after day
to bid each other a sad farewell
as neighbors, as friends, as heart-broken
children…
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Viv Drewa - The Owl Lady 