The Wanderers Poem by Danielle Visser

We walk alone through the shadowed night like solitary nymphs
Wandering through an eerie glade.
We tug at the cloak of protection around our weary shoulders,
Thinking that it will protect us from the coming storm;
Eyes peeking out of a hooded head, hiding from the reach of reality.
Those who march together are stronger, or seemingly,
Clawing together like carrion clans of half-hearted hounds,
Till the inescapable grasp of self reliance
Tears them back to shreds of lost and lonely souls.
Occasionally, one will glow brighter than the rest in the encasing ebony,
Till the merciless multitudes tug and pull
At the leash of the lonely wanderer,
And again are they eased into the ever anxious world of the weak.
Cherished is the child who captures the hearts of all,
Singing his sweet song to sedate the mind of the silent savage.
His laughter echoes in the murky underworld of menacing mortality,
Breaking the boundaries of platinum chains
And pressing the path of imperfection.
Here, he is alone, but not cold.
He is warmed by the embers of a heart full of love,
Sheltered from the world by the arms of an ardent kiss.
His mother is the earth, and in her warmth he will stay;
Till the pertinent passage of time takes its turn,
And the claws of age reach him,
Pulling him once again into that unforgiving
Fury of a wistful world.