No One

by Luis Garcia

No One
for Steve Luttrell

No one knows what’s up,
or what’s up ahead —
just what’s been left,
what’s been left behind.

Hard to seek.
Hard to find — a doorway
to those mysteries
that linger in my mind.

I’m a long and winding road,
a heavy load,
a wounded stream,
a wingless bird,
and a moth–eaten dream.

I’m a stranger
standing here alone,
a stranger who only gets
stranger and stranger.

I’m a rolling stone
trying to get back
to a place called home.