Social Nomad

Social Nomad

When the air is poison
And noxious fumes of hate cloud one’s vision,
When judgement flies forth
From everyone’s mouth –
It is time to move on.

When things said and things done
Obscure all the goodness there ever was,
When disappointments grow and collect in piles –
It is time to move on.

When the air is fresh and the way is clear,
When the grass is green
You can feel joy in the time of peace,
Set up your tent and hope to settle –

But remember that the milk can sour,
The green field of grass can wither.
Small weeds become tangled brambles,
And good things can end.
And then you have no choice –

But to move on.





The end of what was a friendship, though it was torture near the end. Dedicated to four people who are no longer in my life. I wish you all the best. -January 2013