The Wanderer

I am the king of all, and of nothing.

Your eyes see a barren land

and, perhaps, a few haggard, stunted trees.

You cannot perceive my realm,

for you do not wander as I do.

Unlike as storm and calm, you and I.

In one area, one dwelling you live

and think your life very full indeed.

This is why you cannot understand

how very much richer mine is.

I, who have no permanent abode,

consider the world, in its entirety, my home.

If none of it is truly mine, it is better

to think of all of it as my domain.

Even if it is no more substantial

than a poor wanderer's dream.