The Wanderer

As I ponder a path yet un-foretold
of broken barometers to rage against the dying of the light.
As fierce echoes of foregone passions shrivel to squander,
a truth yet lied to death
And the crashing cries convulge cradles' that fall

The Acid priests in mighty towers, solemnly recall
The 'Aimless wanderers' of lonely caves
and lowly taverns of ill repute

A phalanx of pubescence, seeking answers to lost questions
"What is the color of intoxication?"
"What is the flavor of good intention?"
"How do the 'pure' savour pretention?"

Little do they know...
Not all who wander are aimless.

Not if ones aim in seeking wonder
...is to wander.