What is precious
to one who values nothing?
This is not a willful detachment,
nor an enlightened state.
More a vacuum
in the living,
in living space.
Where did this traveler come from?
Strange, airless nether regions
where oxygen kills,
or at minimum irrevocably maims?
To walk about as such, among others,
others will speculate, as others do.
“How can one be so cold?”, they wonder.
“Must have gotten messed up young.”, they say.
“Poor thing will die alone, in misery.”, they opine.
The traveler walks on.