A wanderer walked through a field of night,
Holding a lantern of flickering light.
The world around whispered of sorrow and fear,
Yet something within said, there is a path that is clear.
He stepped through shadows with its elongated fingers ,
Each one a story where the old mind lingers.
Patterns of habit, echoes of pain,
Tried to convince him to turn back again.
But the lantern he carried was quiet and wise,
A soft golden knowing, beyond the eyes.
The inner voice spoke, Awareness is sky, unbound,
Walk gently, now— this is sacred ground.
Passing rivers of restless thought,
Where memories tangled in the nets it caught.
This time seeing he breathed deeply, releasing the thread,
And the river calmed as the old self shed.
From the muddy floor, a lotus arose, in reality no face,
Its petals whispering, There is more to embrace.
Not more to gather, or chase, or claim —
But that deeply to recognise that beyond name.
He bowed to the inner flower, its silence profound,
And felt his feet rooted into groundless ground.
The lantern brightened, the night grew thin,
Revealing the world as it is within.
Mountains of clarity rose in sight,
Bathed in the dawn of awareness-light.
And he realised softly, without a sound,
That the journey was homeward — the home never bound.
For home was the spaciousness he carried inside,
The sky-like mind where illusions subside.
And the lantern he held was his own true heart,
Guiding each step from the very start.
So he walked on, with a smile serene,
Through forests of gold and meadows of green.
A wanderer no more, but a witness awake —
Living the path that all beings take.
And wherever he travelled, his inner lantern would shine,
A reminder to others of their own clear mind.
For the story of waking is shared by all —
A gentle rising, inner call.
The ending is simple, the ending awareness sows:
Awareness realises what awareness knows.
And the wanderer whispers to those who roam:
The path is within — and leads you home.