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I am but a vagabond poet, a foolish dreamer.

I have known the depth of poverty and the elevation of prosperity.

I have lived the chaotic horror of war and the security of a tranquil
village in peace.

The warm hearth and the cold road have both been my home.

I have known the fullness of love and the emptiness of having no place to
call home.

The tender loving touch of a woman and the infliction of torture by the
cruel and insane have both given expression to my flesh.

I have felt the sun shining warm upon me
and tasted the snow as it fell on a cold winter day.

I have held a baby safe and gentle, and held the hand of a dieing man.

I have known most of the expressions of human existence
...in my heart, mind and soul where I live
if not this world wherein I dwell.

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