Moving On

Crossing the lands of lost realms
The traveler breathes the air
Of all he has seen and heard.

Walking so slow with the sound of dust
Crawling over his shoes, he watches
As the clouds curl and float above.

Vultures circle overhead
Rain and thunder fall
Over the mountains, he holds a silver ball.

Rolling a silver ball around his fingers
The lightning flashes against its luster
Creating the gleam in his clear gray eyes.

Wondering of all the hidden evil
And maybe of the little good understood,
He tilts his hat against the cutting wind.

Crossing the lands of lost realms
The traveler breathes the air
Of all he has seen and heard.

Walking through the rain and wind
Past all the dark caverns within
Those mountains to remain in memory.

He sees the vulture’s shadow
But that is all
He clenches his fist around the silver ball.

Rolling his tongue over clenched teeth
As the lightning shows them each
The silver ball gleams beyond reach.

Wondering of the bird’s decent
Or maybe graceful accent.
He tilts his hat against the cutting wind.

Crossing the lands of lost realms
The traveler breathes the air
Of all he has seen and heard.

Walking with strength and sureness
Without fear, remorse, or bewilderment,
He crosses all that he sees.

even the vulture circling, ebbs him not
For tis his fate
For him and the silver ball.

Rolling his eyes into the rain
As the lightning reveals skeleton beneath
The silver ball let loose, starts to fall

Wondering of its harsh impact
Or cushioned imprint
He tilts his hat against the cutting wind.

Crossing the lands of lost realms
The traveler breathes the air
And Strides into the unknown.