The Wanderer
This heart has been a wanderer who loves to ramble and had ways where none existed before. It never understands the wisdom of other's words nor can a choose anything other than what it wants for itself. Sometimes, it creates raging fires in places where a soft little word would have done.
Not that there were no mazes in the olden days. There were many that it burnt down or flew past, though not with a victorious smile or swelling pride but with quiet equanimity; it didn't have much left behind to boast of.
For years, it has searched for beauty in all places in the serenity of nature, in the spontaneity of a child's smile, or in the most beautiful thoughts where it has always dwelt. It has often wandered in the serenest places on earth, where it took in with amazement, the feeling of being so minute in a huge beautiful world. Sometimes, it has wandered alone, partly to its dismay and partly to create a pride in solitude. There were also times, when in another wanderer's eyes, it read solace, warmth and a strange delight.
