Deep into the night,
The moon shines softly upon rows of silhouetting trees.

Alone in strakness
Radiating hope accross the forest cold and deep.

Weary Lone Traveler
With failing body, failing mind and hope must carry on

One step too close,
One step too far, not knowing where to go nor where to turn.

Shoudl he not stay?
Shoudl he not thus await the glorious morn?

But danger lurks,
Within these woods, within these crags, within these stones.

With bleeding feet,
He treads along, stepping on every shrub and every thorn.

Is this the way?
The path that leads him home or to his tomb?


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