On the journey of this life, the wandering poet drifts, travels through thoughts, only to reach, at the end of the road, nothingness. The poet does not travel alone— he is always accompanied by a suitcase filled with empty answers to the questions of this life, questions for which he will never find certain replies. The poet roams through his life seeking to give it meaning, yet when he looks inside his suitcase, he finds nothing— only misunderstanding, and perhaps a single wise answer. “Mister Poet, Mister Poet,” he prays, “Seek not for meaning here, or you will become entangled in your life, as so many lost poets have done before.”
