The Traveler

Every now and then
The shadow under a womb disappears
And the hourglass starts to pour its heart out.
For another traveler has began his journey with a cry out loud but tender.
Where he comes from we find unfathomable,
Not even amen can satiate by telling the where(s) as we know them
Where he goes from here we feign to know.
Nay, his arms are empty but he seems to carry the heaviest of loads.
What a traveller this is -
He travels without a rucksack

He has one of two destinations for an end.
Initial steps are prattle and naive,
Then final steps as huge as a prance.

The whole praxis is defifnite
With a waltz into eternity.