When our ancestors found that wheat
Was a good bread to eat
They settled in Jericho.
All of us are settled now,
But in our souls there is a great woe:
We don't know where to go.
I am settled in a fine place
I own a house, I live in grace,
I have a patio
But late at night when the wind lament
And the garden shivers - my soul is rent:
I don't know where to go.
One day when I say good-bye
To life and wife, and die and fly
somewhere in a great flow
I shall be free to roam again
I'll try to find but try in vain
Where to go, where to go.
- Henry Shore
I found this beautiful poem in the biography of JRD Tata "Beyond the last Blue mountain".....and it echoes the very emotion of the nomad within my soul.
That's the beauty in poetry...you read a poem and find the very emotions of your soul mirrored in the words of someone else and you know that you are not alone on your road, that there have been many before you and that there shall be many who shall come after you.