There is another world
Just on the other side of the fence,
And life has slowed down there.
And the people are not past feeling
The cool of the night
And the heat of the bright afternoon sun.
And the stars shine bright over the desert landscape.
And bushes creep up around each mobile dwelling
And nobody pretends to own any of it.
And nobody infringes upon the empty spaces
That lie between the solitude
Of one nomad and another.
And an unseen hand supplies the wants of each.
And there is enough to spare
And time to chat,
There is time to ponder the silence,
And to dream of things unseen.
Not like this side of the fence
Where we must strive for things we do not need.
One day, I will again cross over,
When the unseen hand is more familiar.
And I will not go out again, anymore, forever.