Disclaimer: This is neither a condemnation nor an exhortation. This is simply and observation that has been formed from a few years of living and more than one attempt at a proper analogy.
The heart of all men has long been divided into two camps
And both may have grounds to be called the wiser.
There is a man who lives as though the sky is born for him
that the road is aching to feel his feet on it
that all the world has been calling since its creation
to be explored
and to be known.
And so he sets out to set foot to that road
wing to that sky
eyes to that sight
and heart to that pulse.
And he gains much out in the blue
wisdom of many ages
stories of many men
lore of many cultures.
And he soaks and he strives
and he learns and he goes
but when he touches ground of homeland
he has far too much to tell.
So he chirps, on and long
about the things he has witnessed
of the words that he heard
and the ways of those not here.
But who will listen?
He speaks to like kind,
and the noise is a clutter
of Who, What and Where
and stories on the floor are strewn
The deafening roar
of the other man's Arabic fables
drowns out his sweet song
from the hills of Peru.
Home brings no drink
to the travelers thirst for knowledge
So he wings his way back
To the world's open arms.
But there is another sort of man
His home is the same
as it was and always will be
and his roots have dug deep
He works hard under sun
and his fruit is sweet and full
the hard on his hands
has brought his children up with love.
He swings the axe, sledge, or hammer
and his reward, he seldom speaks of
His shoes are hard and worn well
and respect of other men, he has more than won.
But when he goes home for supper
He tells the same old stories
and his children may dream of new ones
from exotic lands past the sunset.
So he works, on and long
On the labor of his skill
and he longs of telling new stories
that will make his children dream.
But who will tell him them?
The deafening roar
of the days work and projects
taxes his strong heart
and weighs on his mind.
The world is not for him
His roots would not allow it
So he sighs, raises hammer
And swings on till dusk.
There is a reason
for both birds and trees
one is the traveler
and the other works the ground.
For the bird has many stories
but no place to rest and tell them
and the tree has many branches
and roots which go deep.
They are meant to be companions
The bird needs the branches
and the trees life is richer
for the singing and color.
For if we were all birds
there would be no home to go to
and if we all were trees
who would want to go home?
Eh, It's a rough draft.
