The night vision comes to me
The wanderer's path unfolds
In degrees, always different, never charted.
There is no surety of survival here
Only of the prescience that arises
From so many days following
The river to my left
The forest to my right
The grass under my feet.
The constant stars bear witness
In a sea of change,
The sun, as the fields pass
The wheat, high and golden
Like you always knew it would be.
The dust wisps at our passage
And soon, no one will ever know
That we have been here
To this ancient place
Of unending earth and sky
Where the journey is always the same
Only in that the road is different every time.
Soon, the dust will settle back into place
Along its unseen patterns and tiny mountains
And the stars, in their deep enormity
Will have the forgotten the humble passage
Of a few journeyers wandering the land.