Exile #2

I tread the ground of my own skin
With silent steps, one after one
In my own town I move, alas,
On roads of sand and roads undone

My country’s mist, and though I’m home
The exile creeps inside my bones;
The mornings whisper dreams they lack;
The letters that I write come back -
And thoughts do go,
And thoughts do go…

Old faces gone, new faces dream
My distant lands are lost in sight -
I walk with mellow lights as guide
And silent guard against the night

For life to flow,
For life to flow,
To make my exile round, complete
I’ll dream new exiles, and retreat
And be all empty once again, and blind
And drink back memory, and lie

Treading the ground of my own skin
With silent steps, one after one,
Of all the stories in the air
I am an exile, I am none