The dust that had settled calls out to rise,
By the worn-out shoes that carried him
Through the sun-tanned days and starry nights,
Away from the huts of civilization
That drugged him to become a bottle of sighs,
Away from the artificial lights and confines
To march away silently into the wild.
He bends his knees and looks at his life-
A medley of rules, hypocrisies and lies.
Was he meant to be a person to write
How many times the clock struck five?
Or was he supposed to collect plates in a banquet
Full of husbands who cheat on their wives?
He looks at the far away hills all white
By the winter snow that fell last night,
He hears the dripping river go by
And feels the water there all wet and light.
He picks up his bag and his hat and his life,
And marches with eager steps and eyes,
Steadily and slowly Into the Wild.
P.S. : Inspired by the Supertramp Chris McCandless.