The Fool in Pursuit

• Stones emerge from the shadow;
• they dot the land and shape the sight.
• I barrel forward, sharp-eyed,
• toward the thicket,
• down into depths known by others
• but not by me. Undeserving.
• Faced with pressure to pursue
• that fabled land, in charming blue,
• bleeding brown to crumbled grey.
• I know little of the land I seek
• though I seek little of it in the end.
• But now is only the beginning.
• I face the harsh night,
• And even harsher day.
• The Fight –
• And I seek it still. Such a fool am I –
• unburdened.