The Traveler by Joseph B. St John

Image by Oleg Gamulinskiy from Pixabay

Running through the atmosphere, lost, tired and bewildered,

the traveler moves to another time.

Pulling aimlessly at his memory, he stands alone and lonely,

watching the stars and moon fall around him.


His ship filters his reality and buffers his soul from the elements

that wreck his stranded heart.

Space and trace of stratosphere, never coming up for light,

darkness is the question and answer of the day.


Calm, steady, magnified, he stakes his claim into

the neon sunlight of forgiveness.

Tidal waves of expectation sear his deliverance;

sear his pleasure sensors.


Arranger, time tested troubadour,

never once asking why or how.

Plainly, softly, a true mental morning

held in a sea of timelessness.


Color unto the sunrise-

the time is quick and strong.

The wings of the craft sail through the soft flow of space,

through a world unknown.


The traveler is set to greet the great awakening.

He sees the breath of the virgin world.

He lands gently in the fields of green meadows.

He steps from the craft and breathes the air of a new dawn.


He is the Cosmic Adam.

Standing before the new world.

The horizons of  forever stare back at him.

Gentle brow tilts towards the sun.


Are others out there?