NO PLACE TO GO TO

A poem about an ageless person that has walked on the earth for centuries and triggers a want inside other people to make that impossible journey along with him

On the corner of a street you may catch a glimpse of the traveler

Not spectacularly dressed is he and not much of a converser

Quiet and to himself stays he, preferring to walk in the shadows

There's no place that he's going to, as he takes his evening stroll

He knows no magic knows no spells but some say he’s a wizard

He slips between conversation like a second thought reconsidered

He’s been around for centuries he says, changing with the ages

Carefully obscuring his footprints from decades of braided pages

His existence is a riddle that is both confusing and confounding

His claim is intriguing, and his knowledge astounding

There are secrets he can never tell for it would rewrite history

Fairy tales mixed with fantasy are companions in his reality

It’s hard to pay attention and sing the tunes he whistles

Songs about the earth and the ever changing distance

His experience is the father and the mother of all wisdom

And when he looks at you, You see the entire world in him

For though He may stay today, tomorrow he may vanish

A victim of his own consequence , called a ten year itch

He can't promise you forever, He is the perennial traveler

But whoever has forever and does it really matter

~ Tambourine Man ~ Bob Dylan