I look forward into the great expanse, and
I see nothing. It is dry and it is arid and nothing
grows, not the toughest of weeds. I walk and
I hear nothing. Only the echoing solitary footsteps I
force onwards. Ghosts and tears have fallen long ago.
All options blur into one: a steamed mirror;
a compass that cannot decide which way is North. So
onwards and forwards into the plane, though blinded and
fearful. For there must be something out there,
something for me.
May 12, 2014
May 12, 2014 at 12:17 PM UTC
I look forward into the great expanse, and
I see nothing. It is dry and it is arid and nothing
grows, not the toughest of weeds. I walk and
I hear nothing. Only the echoing solitary footsteps I
force onwards. Ghosts and tears have fallen long ago.
All options blur into one: a steamed mirror;
a compass that cannot decide which way is North. So
onwards and forwards into the plane, though blinded and
fearful. For there must be something out there,
something for me.
