While the dusk takes the leave
And the starry night paints the sky
With Paper, pen and lamp
I set out on a journey with Alexander supertramp
Not into the wild
But within the self : more wilder
Destination barely known
I dwell, for there's a mirage of hope
That the place where questions brood will be known
Solitude, loneliness I find
But not what have marred my soul
Nature the mighty have not been kind
But vindictive, she has immured me in my own indolent world
Drapes somehow have been kind
To not show the fallen leaves
Battered by the rain
And the disrobed trees
For my heart would cry
Remembering those days
Where I would smell the dust
After the rain
Listen to the fallen leaves sing
Of their pain
Hear my mother's call
To drink soup, her handmade
While the dusk takes the leave
And the starry night paints the sky
I sit alone in the corner with friends of mine
From Switzerland to Nepal on foot: A man’s journey for a cause
