Vagabond Rambler

Vagabond Rambler

I am the pupil in the center of the eye
I am the pupae in the center of the sky
I am the purpose of the moon and the mind
I am the purplepink lustre of the rotting rind.

I am moved not by your manipulation
I am smoothed not by your capitulation
I am removed from your observation
I am soothed by your undulation.

But what does this mean, what does this mean
Where does this lead me, the silver queen
the rampant wanderer of time and rhyme
the vagabond rambler through moistened minds?

And where does this take me, what forgotten land
what does this make me, and by whose hand
where will I lay my weary head my friend
when the path that I tread winds to the end?

Charleen Johnston 
2005