That walk amongst thieves,

the spiritual guidance of a seer

apparent in all of their moves.

Notice the eyes,

perhaps downcast in the moment,

who looks a man in the eye,

except that human condition,

that need to clarify, I do exist,

yet, certainly not the purist.

That walk is always certain,

belief in one’s own direction,

without analysis, the stroll is simple,

always without burden,

yet solo in comprehension.

Perhaps.