The Wanderer and the Watcher
Farewell, he says
to the squirrels, the birds, and even the insects,
as they are the ones who will be the most
with him gone.
A Maple leaf,
the lone warrior
flutters down from his homeland,
cast out from a land of honor and discipline,
a wanderer with the wind
filled with ambition.
Nothing but his blade,
the sweet melodies of his flute,
and the crimson blood running through his veins,
link him to the place of his birth.
He leafs from town to town,
encountering leaves from all different types of trees:
Oak, Elm, Birch, Rowan, the list goes on.
Yet never again
does he find another
He leaves each town
a little more distant
than he entered.
Sorrows and frustrations build.
Try as it might,
not even the wind can alleviate them.
However, on one fateful day,
it reaches the sea—
the endless chasm
sprinkled with pockets
of people’s ambition.
Its leafing leaves it deposited in the cold and rough waters of an unabating storm,
a Maple leaf sinking into the depths of the chasm,
Right before it is consumed
by the relentless waves of lethargy,
it feels the calloused hands yet gentle grasp
of a pirate captain and her crew.
As he dries on the ship,
he gazes admirably
at the peculiar drunks,
He asks for a glass of gin.
But a leaf has no mouth with which to speak or drink.
The prospective future seems to excite him.
Yet he is unaware
that he may have already found
what he’s been searching for.
The ship departs.