Ode to the Wanderer

Oh wanderer!
Who else knows so well his life’s purpose.
As sure as grass is green in the summertime,
As sure as the blossom of the tulip means Spring,
So does the wanderer to his purpose cling.
Who should wonder as to the wanderings of the wanderer?
Or ponder the ponderings of the ponderer?
Oh, absent, spellbound wanderer!
In no time at all, together as one, they will answer the call,
Perilously they traverse the unsure universe.
For them, life as they know it
Is to wander and to ponder.
In their various adventures they will be together—
In my mind Forever, oh wanderer.