I Am A Man Who Carries The World On His Back Poem by Mark Heathcote

I am a man who carries the world on his back.
I am a man who has done nothing but pluck tulip petals for joys and toys.
And I kissed the lips of a girl who'd happily sell my soul for a bed or two sacks of coal.
I am a man who has broad shoulders and a bald, worried head.
Many days I have wished I were dead.
But each day I grew less fussy and happier I was.
With nothing to buy back my soul
My heart beat steadily and was strong.
I am a man who has toiled in the dirt.
I am a man who has nursed others back to health—near death.
I am a man who has cried all night till dawn and then cried some more.
I am a deeply bereaved man.
I am a man who has endured love and hatred.
I am a man who has been bereft without any place to go or drift.
No place to call home, no kingdom to roam in.
I am a man who wears a crown made of the jawbone teeth of a lion.
But I have no pride; I am just a carcass that doesn't know it's already died.
I am a man who carries the world on his back.
And questions the meaning and value of everything bartered and sold.
Many days I have wished I were dead.
But each day I grew less fussy and happier I was.
With nothing to buy back my soul
The best way to live and find peace
is to give up all control and blow and bend with the wind.