The Half-Shod Wanderer
An Epic Poem in Five Cantos
Canto I: The Forest of Uncertainty
Through ancient pines where wisdom softly dwells,
Two monks in saffron robes tread gentle paths,
Venerable Tashi with his silver bells,
And young novice Dao, learning koans and math.
Their morning meditation now complete,
They walk in silence through the misty grove,
When strange sounds break their contemplation sweet –
A wailing voice that through the branches wove.
“What purpose serves a compass in a world
Where north and south are merely concepts frail?”
The voice proclaimed as morning fog unfurled,
“I’ve lost direction, path, and half my trail!”
The monks exchanged a glance of mild surprise,
For visitors were rare in these deep woods.
“We should investigate,” said Tashi wise,
“Compassion calls us help where help we could.”
Canto II: The Curious Encounter
Beyond the cedar bend they found him there,
A figure strange as moonlight on the sea:
With one shoe missing, half his face laid bare
Of moustache – trimmed with stark asymmetry.
His coat was inside-out, his hat askew,
A pocket watch he carried upside down.
“Good morning, sirs!” he said. “Or is it true
That morning’s just a construct of renown?”
“I am Godot – no wait, that’s who I seek –
I’m rather Estragon, or maybe not.
My identity shifts from week to week,
My purpose here? I’ve honestly forgot.”
The monks bowed low with hands pressed at their hearts,
“We offer help to find what you have lost.”
“But nothing’s lost,” he laughed, “when nothing starts!
I’m merely wandering, whatever the cost.”
Canto III: The Dialogue
They built a fire as daylight slowly waned,
The absurdist juggled pebbles, laughing loud.
“What brings two monks where chaos has remained
Unchallenged by enlightenment so proud?”
“We seek no challenge,” Tashi gently said,
“But harmony with all that comes to be.”
The stranger cocked his half-moustached head,
“How boring! Life’s absurdity’s the key!”
Young Dao passed him tea in silent grace,
The stranger sniffed it, then turned cup around.
“I drink from bottom up, it’s my embrace
Of upside-down perception most profound!”
“Perhaps,” said Tashi, “upside-down or right,
The tea remains the same, does it not?”
“Aha!” the stranger cried with great delight,
“A paradox that ties a mental knot!”
Canto IV: The Night of Revelations
As darkness wrapped them in its starry cloak,
The absurdist grew quiet, watching flames.
“My shoe,” he whispered, “wasn’t lost when broke
The dawn, I left it marking where games
Of meaning end and true absurdity
Begins. My moustache too, half-removed,
Reminds me daily of duality.
Half-truth, half-fiction, neither one improved.”
“I wander not because I’ve lost my way,
But rather to proclaim no way exists!
Each path leads nowhere special, so I stray
Deliberately where contradiction twists.”
The monks sat silent, drinking in his words,
Then Dao spoke softly, “Is it not a path
To claim no paths exist? Like flightless birds
Who preach that sky’s illusion, tempting wrath?”
Canto V: The Dawn of Understanding
The absurdist blinked, his one-shoed foot went still,
His half-moustache twitched slightly to the right.
“A paradox!” he gasped. “Against my will
I’ve stumbled on consistency’s delight!”
As morning broke through trees in golden shards,
The absurdist stood, bowing with a grin.
“Perhaps your middle way disarms the guards
Of chaos that I’ve fortified within.”
“Not middle way,” said Tashi, “but the sight
To see all ways as empty yet complete.
Your missing shoe, moustache half in the light...
They’re perfect as they are, no need to meet
Some standard of completeness or of form.
The forest isn’t lost nor are you found.
There’s nowhere you should be, no need to conform,
When everywhere is sacred, hallowed ground.”
The absurdist laughed, but not in mockery.
A laugh of recognition, clear and true.
“I sought to flee from meaning’s trickery,
But meaning found me, wearing just one shoe!”
Together they walked out from forest deep,
Three figures on no particular quest:
Two monks who’d helped a wanderer to reap
The harvest of his doubts, at peace, at rest.
His moustache half-complete, his foot half-shod,
The absurdist found balance in the space
Between all contradictions, with a nod
To emptiness filled with abundant grace.