Nomad Poem by Stephen St.John

Rough soles made thin
from endless wandering,
driven by a restless soul.
Through mud and meadow,
slight and vast,
I plod on towards unseen goal.
In constant motion, lies my peace.
Reaching the stars, I find firm grip.
In searching that which can't be found,
I stumble upon myself.

The endless road forever winding
becomes for me a temple;
my ceaseless stride, a fervent prayer.
With each step I worship earth;
with each breath I praise the sky.

May I have no Destination!
I let my Nomad's Oath resound.
There shall be time enough for rest
when I make my bed beneath the ground.

May that day of sleep be distant,
for much have I left to be seen.
Vibrant woods whisper my name,
the mists of mountains beckon me.