When I walk among you, you're not there,
You faceless, many-headed throng.
Like shadows through the twilight air,
The ebbing mists of toneless song,
You flow, disperse, and merge again,
Here cloudlike, there a waspish swarm,
Now cowlike, now an autumn rain,
A chilling fog with icy arms.
It seems as if I'm going nowhere!
Going nowhere... going nowhere....
Seems as if I'm going nowhere...
Every way I turn.
I wander like a errant friar,
Hermit seeking out a shrine.
I mad-dance like a frenzied fire
Burning bridges as I shine.
I wander like a shooting star,
A shipwrecked sailor on the sea,
And though I have not ventured far,
No place is yet quite home to me.
No place. No heart. No shining eyes.
This vale of mists! This shadow-rift
Holds little joy and small surprise;
The hours are dying as I drift.
Will someone, then, be true to me?
God help me, I've forgotten how!
Where should I go? Who should I be?
Where does the Way lead now?
It seems as if I'm going nowhere!
Going nowhere... going nowhere....
Seems as if I'm going nowhere...
Every way I turn.
Lao Tzu would say: "Live silent. Be
Like water flowing from the heights
Into the bosom of the sea,
And shun acts that bring vain delights.
"Do not strive with heaven and earth.
Walk the low and level path.
Heed the signs of death and birth.
Be content with what you have
"And what you are, and what life is,
And know the Way makes everything
Come out aright, though it seem amiss.
There's little use for suffering."
If I believed this in my heart,
Who would I be? What would I do
Of any worth? What healing art
Does Fate employ while I pursue
The nothing? Can it really be
That slacking off pays hundred-fold
To effort? What strange alchemy!—
The lead of slumber to life's gold!
You faceless crowd! Vain, muddled monster!
Formless mists! Where are you leading?
I feel a crazed, absurd impostor,
Poking at some foolsgold meaning,
Living vaguely like a man,
Yet lost in secret woman's dreams,
And loath to wake it seems...
George Chadderdon © 1996