From Nowhere

It was a foggy night. Visibility nil, the air motionless, trees barely seen in the distance, then came a human, seemingly from every direction. The sound grew louder as the mist contracted, until it began to take on form. Soon the fog was gone, and from the mist came a man. His hair was long and he he had a scraggly beard, and on his short, thin body were ragged clothes. The humming now came from his lips, no longer deafening and droning, but it became 'Humoresque' by Antonin Dvorak. He limped through the woods, his steps becoming surer as he made his way towards a road. Once beneath the streetlights, he began to sing. Why and how and who and where/ I don't have to care/ Only details, lines to fill in/ as truth becomes a major sin./ Where do I go?/ What will I do?/ Good thing I know/ how to sing the blues./ He repeated the last two lines several times as he walked on. Soon he reached a train station, and another verse entered his feverish mind. Wicked world I love you/ This place was meant for me/ All I desire/ becomes destiny.// Those last two lines he kept repeating until the train arrived, and as he embarked, Dvorak's innocuous tune came back from his lips, then he sat down and was silent.