Wandering, long
and lonely, on dusty
roads that stretch
on to journeys end.

Friends are road signs
posted along the way.

Castles and cadavers
litter the roadside,
broken glass and
fairie’s wings
reminders of
what transpired
not moments ago
but already an age
past forever.

Here and there
forgotten memories
lie, dusty and
tarnished. Time,
Eater of souls,
bodies, and all,
frays them at
the edges so
only fuzzy
recollections remain.

Prison Doors stand
open all, no
Captive secrets
remain. Truth
and forthrightness
reign, hand in
hand as king and
queen.

Yet sadness is
an ever present
cloud, a pall amidst
the land. Never
permanent but
ever returning,
a constant house
guest, if you
will. But
The ground on
which I stand
is rich in
hope, if small
in faith and
e’ermore shall
I continue on.

                AcB        3.27.98