I pass through the shroud
Of dust around my feet:
The ocean of sand has not changed.

I am walking.

This baking sun,
I can’t see it.
There is music,
I can’t make out the tune.
But I ignore the screaming
In my legs-

And still I walk.

On red rock canyon walls
Words written in blood-
Many have gone before.
Their ghosts tell me stories;
My time to bleed…?
I swallow fateful thoughts

And keep walking.

They tell me this is home…
They tell me this is just …
They tell me this is all…
They tell me…
I hear the vulture’s cry…

And yet I walk.

I delight in being alive
I see a horizon
I see green
I see water

And so I walk…
But sometimes I crawl.