Wanderer's Songs in a Dimly Lit Forest

Wanderers sing sometimes.

When a person is alone, music is good company. Especially in lonely times.

It is hard to keep yourself busy when you live in vast expansive lands.

Untouched by civilization, filled with random trees and sifting sands.

A person may be alone, singing to themselves, singing in the depths of the wilderness.

They may look at the sky, singing happily, even if there is nobody to hear them in the silence.

A deafening silence, a disquieting silence, only filled with the gusts against the trees.

Only the gusts of trees, and the cacophony of animals, like the buzzing of bees.

A forest is large, but sometimes, you can hear those songs.

Sometimes, you can hear them amongst the trees, amongst the winds that are stretched and long.

You can almost hear their laughter, with their other fellow travellers.

You might hear how they pick up other people from afar, their fellow scavengers.

In the depths of the forest, you might say that had a bit of a siblinghood.

They might care for each other, just because they could.

Even in times of chaos and strife, some people love each other.

It is universal, like how a son is loved by a mother.

At the end of the day, we may all wind up dead.

But that does not mean we cannot love each other, until the end.

If society went away, even if our cities have fallen.

There will still be people who care.

There will be generous people who share.

There will be civilized communities.

There will be careful civilities.

At the end of everything, there will still be songs and music.

Those who make noises in beautiful ways, attempt to be artistic.

From those noises and sounds come art,

From art begins a revolutionary start.

A start of an age of creation, an age of wonders.

An age of rebuilding civilization, starting great historical chapters.

A wander’s song in a dimly lit forest,

Is the first seed to art, the first spark leading to what is next.

As long as there is one vagabond, singing his own tune.

Then our fine arts will not dissipate anytime soon.

If the world ended today, it would not end art or compassion.

It is a fire in man’s heart, a furnace of passion.

It is a source of love, a source of determination.

An antidote against apathy, deep hatred, and aggression.

Author's Note

This is a poem set in a post-apocalyptic world, and talks about those who wander around in this land after the end. I like to think that even after the collapse of civilization, there will still be people who make music and create communities.