Alone, the lonely traveler wanders
In this world too big for him
Searching to be found

Gazing up at the stars, he wonders
Where he stands
In a universe of riddles and blunders

Unsuited for destiny
Tired of trying to fit
That suit—a size too small

Running from nothing, nothing at all
For the nothingness had loomed too long
So into the seasons he strode

The summer blossomed crimson
The fall fell to winter
The spring wept

But the sun rose a polished gold
And the moon a lustrous silver
Emerald forests, sapphire streams…

Thin from famine
Pack nearly empty
A wealthy man