The Traveler

There once was a young woman 

Who wanted to travel,

To travel and to understand:

The world and its treasure,

Its worth and the measure 

Of what she could hold in her hand. 

The journey was fraught with danger,

And illness of mind and soul. 

For people were greedy

Never satisfied, needy, 

Taking more than they could hold. 

Some people had wealth but no money,

Those with money 

Refused to have shame.

From greatest to small

Hunger captured them all,

Hunger for power, fortune, and fame. 

The was a loss in communication

No one talked

No one dared to express

That they longed for compassion

Love and anger, distractions

From the earth that created this mess. 

The young woman was greatly troubled

And distraught at a world

So diseased. 

She wanted to run

To undo the undone 

From which suffered all the displeased. 

So she knelt as a small, grassy hillside,

With her face tilted up 

Towards the sky.

"For the people," she prayed,

"Let there soon come a day

When for truth and forgiveness we'll cry."