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vagabond bound
I was a mere vagabond.
I roamed the deserts and plains vast seas and lofty mountains in a search to which I was but bound. I sought only a reason for my life and the mundane existence of unfound joys and their cruel persistence.
Why had I committed myself to worldly
treason?
Why did life encompass such inquiries? What does this pursuance of survival mean? Why are tranquil pastures not green? Is to ask merely this, to ask too much? Why did life just go on without the hope and want? For this vagabond why was it an irritable taunt? Was the answer too deep to ponder upon? why did life contain memories of experiences that are better forgotten; love and losses ended and begotten? Better would it not be to remember only glories? Alas! I have quit my roaming but only for the answers. All the questions I still ponder. Vagabonds abound so many others keep becoming.
Are you one?
[aP]
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