Travels the hills, he does.
Searching for himself, lusting for another.
Any other.
But they won't do.
He hasn't found the one.
He can't even find himself.

He see's pieces, glinting from behind the rocks, the brush.
Bit by bit he discovers what he is, who he will be.
He sees all of his falls coming.

Not one to tempt fate, he rides them out.
Tumbling, he hits the ground hard.
But he was prepared, and quickly recovers, and moves on.

Day fades to dusk, light sliding out the back door.
Night checks in, watching over him as he struggles across the rugged terrain.
Moonlight fails, and the stars peep out.
The heavenly streetlamp gone, a soft glow illuminates the beauty around him.

He pauses, taking in the scenery.
He isn't fooled by the awe inspiring sights, he knows.
He feels it, the danger lurking.
More falls, more pain.

Hiking up his pack, his life on his back, he marches on.
Picking up the pieces left for him, they are his only trail, his only map.
Marching towards the sunset of his life, he never looks back.

Bleeding, for you.


Post a Comment

<< Home