Nomatic.
And at times...
Appearing emphatically erratic.
As if aimless without a purpose to serve.
Or grounded in a position fixed,
That warrants recognition.
'Are they homeless?
Or pioneers?
Or perhaps independent thinkers,
Adventuring life to uncover...
A future to pave for a better life to live? '
It seems to me those folks are just fed up.
And have become tired of reaching,
To masquerade a stability.
And an array of definitions...
Of a meaning of life for them that sucks.
'But what about pretentions and impressions left,
We all can not escape from and wish to make? '
Obviously they have found a way,
To live a life real for them that isn't faked.
Nomatic.
And at times...
Appearing emphatically erratic.
As if aimless without a purpose to serve.
Or grounded in a position fixed,
That warrants recognition.
'Then...
Why are they getting from us our attention? '
That's a good question.
Since they seem to be happy and freed,
From the chaos and conflicts...
With deceptions and betrayals we claim are needed,
To bring about for us a lasting peace.
And just perhaps...
They have discovered a way to establish that.
With or without the labelling to call them nomadic.
'Or nonconforming mavericks.'
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem