Je

I'm a traveler,
of distances in length
and memories.

I'm a weaver,
of stories untold,
unknown.

I'm a dreamer,
and all day I dream
of a man living in a green forest
inside a thin cardboard box with 23 pinholes
from where the sun slips in.

I'm the ancient heretic,
for my ideas don't go well with the present world.

Yet
I travel,
I dream,
I weave and
I seek out
those, who understand
the beauty, of insanity.