Now I have wandered long years and many,
Have drowned in the haze of the late afternoon
Until my poor feet are bleeding and heavy,
They must give out soon.
As I lounge in the fumes of the charcoal vapors
Questions pop out, like an unpaid debt,
And someone offers- in a tasty little packet -
And then when I sit with elbows on the table,
Swoonin with awe, merged fearfully
With things not of earth, somebody says
"Here's your tea."
Oh, I am a child of the flame, of the glory,
Visions shine before me all through the night,
But can it be- can it be possible
They will not even know me by sight?