Tuur Verheyde
Traveller
For M.
So, you will go on,
Travelling, for a moon
Or so, to sights I know
Not where. I will admit
Envy sighs as I write this,
And worry whines like
A patronising tut. Neither
Is of use to you. You wish
To go and traverse space
Untracked, unpinned;
True adventure unfolds
Unmeasured. And I wish
I could go with you and
Be bear witness, but this
Trek is yours alone, your
Precious breath drawing
In memories before hustle
And bustle become boss.
Go then, traveller, on and on,
To wherever fancy takes you.
We will be here, fretting and
Forgetting, wondering who will
Be borne back to us on tides
Of renewal, as through us
Home croons its stifling
Siren song.