So then he wandered out into the street and began to testify

Something about life being a long journey of the soul

An endless voyaging turning into a voyaging with an end

One knows how but one does not know when

No one yet knows when as the traffic bore down on him

As the traffic bore down on him my mind drifted in the wilderness

Or was it that my mind having been adrift all along

I’ve just grown to regard the wilderness as my resting or laughing place

He cried but those were not yet his last words

As the traffic parted around him as around one charmed