I would lay me a mat upon the desert sands

If I could live to see a thousand suns
I’d lay me down this laboured countenance
And journey the tempest waves of the high seas

I would lay me a mat upon the desert sands
Where the night’s speckled crown
Is not blush with the noise of city lights.
I would pitch tent under the northern skies
And wet my beak with their colourful nights
Where the gods are said to show off their painting.
I would moon dance with the southern tribes,
Swim across the majestic Congo,
And build me a cabin atop Rwenzori’s quiet crest
Where I would watch my last sun go to sleep.

I’d live amongst the stars and the winds
A journeyman; with my home at my feet
And my heart in my head-
But I’m old with the youngness of youth.
A desolate monk;
Trapped in the service of a faceless master
Whose empty voice lives inside my head.
I wish I were a butterfly
But I am stooped with the oldness of youth-
Cloaked in these earthy robes,
Of denim and leather.

© Kordasis 2010