By Martin Falatic
He whiled the days away;
weeks, months and years in contemplation of Life...
A voyager, lost, in a world uncaring.
The rain fell upon his face in the spring,
In the summer, warm winds smoothed his hair.
Autumn embraced him in cool contemplation,
while Winter's icy touch brought a smile to his face.
Though so much was experienced, he felt little,
Insulated as he was from the world,
For he knew he was mortal, finite; this deeply troubled him.
Those many years, spent in a search for the meaning of it all.
One night he awoke from dreams filled with answers, more questions,
But most of all, a certain hope, a direction to try.
Like everyone, he was still lost in some way,
But now, at least, the road was a little less dim.