walking world wanderer understands something of still lies

that it is foolishness to think the foolish cannot act wise

world wanderer cannot decide upon a single whispered wish

for knowing that greater still it is to think the wise cannot act foolish

this tread upon treader has found the unconsciousness of midway

the unplanned beauty of a not early, not late sanguine sun of midday

 

so upon the equatorial fence he’ll ride

with neither terror nor joy at either side

while every wandering eye that wanders by

can wonder at the one with no time to bide

 

this dusty traveller is neither foolish nor wise

he cannot bring himself to wear either disguise

so he’ll tread the living line between the two

he’ll walk the tightrope called try-to-be-true