Journey

Well the land was cold in those days,
worked and worn from our greed.
Like the animals,
we should have gone.
Within our sleep they came
to beckon us away,
to places strange and new.
Out of our caves we'd go,
to the next and the next and the next,
resting place,
where we had never slept.
Clutching sticks with stones,
wearing shells
and fur.
We'd follow them.
In bitter wind
and moonless night.
Vast woods and plains,
stretched fast before us
like trinkets hung,
like bait.
Our feet are torn and callused,
from this chase
and that first step,
from thorns we did not see
but thought we knew.
In daylight and in waking,
they were not here,

Journey

to call us to the hills
and further on,
where gods forbade.
The yearning of the need
will get us soon,
onto tired legs
or maybe into boats
and then we go.
Somewhere.