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Drifting silently on a well worn path,
Feet raw and red - I wait.
The melody fades, and all around disharmonious tones engulf me.
So too, the fire sputters and dies.
The tones drone - I am alone.
The plants wither and pervert, husks now.
One thing constant - I feel the fear.
A different place, the same story.
Standing on this barren slope - I yet have hope.
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