Today to wander is the artist’s way,
For art is now perception in itself.
The layers of our making are so deep
Reflecting creations beyond all count,
Our coalescent magic can be seen,
And real is now the art that we once sought.
The world is lines, lined up at our museums.
And wanderers who see what time has made.
One day museum lines will cease to be,
As we perceive the world that we create.
Then wandering will be the way for all.
A loosening, a freedom on the road.
Stand still. Or move. It makes no difference.
