A sojourner, 

Jaded and disillusioned 

By the scathing mien

Of Hypocrisy and Malfeasance

Both not strangers, alas, 

But vexatious neighbors,

That greeted her 

At every step of her journey, 

Calls to the cerulean firmament

Embracing her from above,

The words carried by the whispering winds,

The reverberation echoing in the horizon 

Long after her departure

And somewhere, 

In a distant land

Oppressive with the raucousness

Of the parrots in 

The menagerie

That is human society

Stringent with the skirmish 

Between the glaring sun and

Lustrous moon

Ablaze with the zeal 

Of possibility, 

And as ephemeral as a flower,

I hear her lament, 

Seeping with the melancholy 

Of buried dreams,

The winds tell her story, 

Which I will now pass on to you

This wayfarer

Yearned for a life

Without the long residence 

Of the caustic betrayal 

Disfiguring the gilded surface

Of naive souls, 

Leaving only a feeble shadow

Of whom they used to be

She trekked along the worn paths

Of solitude, 

Through the maze 

Of discombobulated disenchantment

And down the hill of bitter revelations,

Until she reached her long-sought destination,

An ethereal realm, 

Obscured by the shrouding haze of Enigma,

The elusive sprite whom she yearned to call 

Her acquaintance, 

Mischievous imps playing 

With the gossamer threads

Of reality, 

A vivarium of entomological wonders

Washed ashore

By turbulent waters,

The very air redolent

With the balm of hope

At aspirations 

Retrieved from its sepulcher

Wandering about in its recesses 

Had brought about an epiphany, 

That she was but a mere speck of dust 

In the hourglass of time

That if life would be petulant and petty

She would have to wrest from it what she could.

And save herself from drowning

In the vortex of dejection, 

Be her own lifeguard, 

Guiding herself

Towards the beacon of light

Beckoning her to its heights

As I listened to this tale, 

I caught the reflection 

Of a resolute visage

Startlingly familiar in its physiognomy,

I beheld my own wearied countenance

Staring back at me, 

For I am this sojourner

Come to seek solace 

From abrasive dissents

Of which emerge 

The rough shell 

Of cynicism 

And I have come out from my arduous journey

Not plagued with the physical lassitude 

Of embarking on such an odyssey

But galvanized by a certain assurance

That one day

I will leave the gates 

Of this dream-like realm, 

And see for myself

The triviality of the world