Desert wastelands are home to the Wanderer. All you would find, In their mind, Is a beautiful mirage they’ve conjured from Hurt. Pain others minimized for reasons they may not be aware of, But, It’s what gives the illusion its worth. Watering their phantasm until it becomes real, By growing out of their absurdity with honor…
And, I guess I’m a Wanderer myself. Just, Walking, And walking, And walking without contact with anyone, But, A Light I look up to any time I’m in need of any help. A Light I see as I keep my eyes closed, Dreaming of the day I’d finally break out of my shell, Of Trepidation. Flowing out of a chrysalis hatching from an abyss where, I’ve never lost sight of salvation…
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