Wandering from room to room like a ghost.
Never a guest.
Never a host.
As grey as an elephant
as loud as a mouse door to door
at every house.
No one can hear you.
They say it’s the wind.
No one can see you.
How the light bends to create you.
City to city you roam,
never finding home,
just enough to sustain
what the journey will contain.
Meandering through countries and cultures
recognizing vultures as universal as
the planets.
Across every continent you ramble
as you begin to understand
the Tower of Babel,
and how words create the brambles we men are mired in.
The earth in the heavens,
ought know by now,
Doing, not saying; is how.