Nomadic Treasure
by Odin Roark

A wise man told me
The Essence tuning fork
Is never idle
It is always resonating

As in…

Surviving one’s homeless spirit
One may tune in audacity for a roof
Direct eyes to dine on tomorrow
When eyes no long see
Listen

When ears no longer hear
Think

When no thought comes
Allow

Resonance lingers

For when one’s father no longer lives
Compassion becoming father
When mother passes on
Embracing Order is natural
When no friends come near
Quiet assumes companion
When one’s home is no more
Silence becomes shelter

And so…
I now reside somewhere nameless

Responding not to supernatural influence
My tongue leads its own choir
Allowing no such fortune
Visit my park bench

Need remains but a tactic
Detachment my strategy
My Means have discovered the Within
Where nothing and everything
Becomes my destiny
Anonymity proving divine
Death but treasure found

He also taught me
When your lover has gone
Sleep invites your courting

For tomorrow’s awakening
Awaits slumbering shadows
Primed to detach into the light
Where begins anew
The tuning of the fork