The Rider


High in the saddle, reigns taut,
We galloped away from home,
Proud steed and lean rider
Searching, searching, searching,
Seeking from the world
A meaning of sorts; such is the folly
Of the young.
Long and arduous has been the ride,
But worth it if only to see! The ruins,
Columns in the sands bleached white
As if to be the picked-clean bones of
Those that came before, macabre
Testament to the singular truth.
Closer to the ground now,
In more ways than one.
I left my horse buried in sand
And miles, miles, miles.
Such is the truth of things.
But alas! At last, a meaning!
The grand epiphany, you see;
For the farther I wander from home,
The closer to home I'll be!
With this better truth in hand,
I stopped, turned, and chose a new heading
Towards home.

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