A while back (a very while back) I wrote a poem called Vagabond, where I never explicitly stated that the man in question was a Vagabond. here is the sequel to that poem, when the man finally reaches the town, or “post” (as in a watchpost) he set off for:

Vagabond 2

The eye hath now return’d again
And my new post awaits, my friend
O! To live, be here, then gone
Such is the life of a vagabond.

Adventurer’s spirit, will and eye
What once evaded for the sky,
Now emulated, and here is done
All traveling of the vagabond.

So here it is, in all its splendor!
To think, me called the Great Pretender
Such is nonsense, rumors drawn
Of this there is no vagabond.

Now you’ve seen, my friend, and moved
And with you changed your attitude
You’re with me, and we are one
So now who is the vagabond?

I was thinking about the way things look, and how physics itself is counter-intuitive. Now, mind you, this was during the end of physics class, so I was also quite spacey. Out of me burst a poem, one of my only recent ones with some form of rhyme scheme.

“On Looks”

Left alone, itself surmise

The universe will improvise

With classic clouds and gravitons

Black-holes, space-time, and photons

With all of this in stellar mix

It’s hard to tell what’s which from which;

Photons in black shadow’s hole,

Reality lost is space-time’s goal

Then suddenly it rearranges -

The universe makes several changes

Now everything is inside-out

And upside down and roundabout!

The universe’s resurrection,

Although it changes our perception,

Never was the bane of mind.

The cosmos is the same sublime.

So what thereof on transformations,

Testing universal patience?

Of who is who and what is what,

The answer must remain in thought.