Headlights


Headlights shine through the lonely limbs of our descendants
White fog clouding their vision
Tired arms and tired bones
Encased with frost from their fathers
Weighed down by the weight of judgements
Itching from their clouded stares

How much I long to feel nothing
But the sweet taste of serenity

Escape to the land of my forefathers
Where I can be whole again
Where grace kisses the mountains
And birds cry out to their children
Where lonely packs of grey furs
Search for themselves
Where the scent of maroon
Fills our nurturing lungs

When we arrive
There will be no fences
Only that of an unmarked map
We must lead the way to the land
Where spirits roam and souls are born
For this is a journey
A journey to find one's soul

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