As I stand on this dusty road
Squinting into the rising sun
Scanning the horizon for signs of life
I wonder if I’m wandering into Nomad’s Land.
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Hey, Suzanne! Thought I’d explore a few of your earlier postings. As usual I recognize your familiar voice and easily enter this poem with your diction that has a natural conversational flow. As to the philosophy expressed in it, I resonate with the perspective of a sojourner. Also, I wonder when you wrote this and whether you’re taking on a persona not your own. Me, I treasure solitude, but find comfort in knowing I’m not alone in the existential sense.
-Glen
You ask tough questions, Glen. To begin with, I think I called you a seeker way back when we first began talking, and I consider myself the same, except I have given up the idea that there is some goal or finish line or definitive answer somewhere around the corner. I tend to think that the journey, the changes, the people we meet who change us is the purpose. So while the dusty path and wagon wheels are not literal, I am definitely constantly wandering.
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Hey, Suzanne! Thought I’d explore a few of your earlier postings. As usual I recognize your familiar voice and easily enter this poem with your diction that has a natural conversational flow. As to the philosophy expressed in it, I resonate with the perspective of a sojourner. Also, I wonder when you wrote this and whether you’re taking on a persona not your own. Me, I treasure solitude, but find comfort in knowing I’m not alone in the existential sense. -Glen
You ask tough questions, Glen. To begin with, I think I called you a seeker way back when we first began talking, and I consider myself the same, except I have given up the idea that there is some goal or finish line or definitive answer somewhere around the corner. I tend to think that the journey, the changes, the people we meet who change us is the purpose. So while the dusty path and wagon wheels are not literal, I am definitely constantly wandering.