Wanderer


I wander, from face to face, from group to group. I wander searching through the various social ethos. Through the networks upon which the pathos of this society lay. I try ever so hard to fit, to be the missing piece of the puzzle.

I have wandered through the nights, I have found souls, who are lost in themselves, and the darkness. Who mainly exist in the after hours so as to function in the day time. Who remain zombies by day and slaves of their desires by night. The creatures of our social order who carry out the various taboos.

I have wandered through the streets of the old city. I have glanced upon the faces of the hungry, the poor, the socially misfit forgotten class. Those who, with a gallon of oil in their hair and hole in their pockets ( intangible , symbolic hole ) look to the night sky , to the moon to lose themselves and forget their plights.

I have wandered through the modern playgrounds of the young generations, and the future market people.  I have seen in their faces, a lust, for remaining ignorant to the gravity of all that happens around them. Those who choose to remain in the safety pods of their parents to one day leave, escape, without actually getting in harms way. The blessed, the privilege, the people who were or are to steer this country tomorrow.

I have wandered, through the homes of the lonely parents, whose off springs have forgotten them. Who live by themselves, in a routine life of their own. Forgotten, disowned by blood. Destined to sad, grave, heavy and teary eyes.

I have wandered, then to the beaches, where the homeless lay. People with fortunes worse then that of ones from the old city.

I have wandered through the crowds of the elite. For whom the rest are mere pawns in a game much bigger than a 1000 poor people’s lives. For those to whom stature comes before humanity perhaps.

I have wandered through the night time masquerades of those who, wish to let their vices get the best of them. Who let ecstasy take control above all.

I have wandered, and now I am still walking. I haven’t stopped anywhere. I haven’t looked back. But I have a photograph of all in my head now. I have a puzzle in my head, the pieces are things I have seen. The solution to this puzzle, is a mystery of it’s own.

So I keep wandering, keep searching. I am the wanderer.

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Author: Sammy Wiseguy

Marketer, blogger, reader, Arsenal fan, frequently emotionally wounded cricket fan

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