The only way out

Is through the scarred and desolate hills,

Browned by the summer

And bristling with thorns

–

Through the sun’s falling ire,

While coursing with sweat

In a windless desert

As time pours like sand

–

It’s a long way down

To the sea of grass,

Parted by the strides

Of daydreamers adrift

–

The voyage truly begins

Beyond the mountain of thorns,

Shielding the valleys

Where the nomads rest