Wanderer

Be thy compass, he prays to the sun And his weary feet trudge onward Miles to go, gravity pulling Thru wastelands and cravans he runs Slowing only to be watered Then regaining his footing He climbs over steep and slighted terrain He wades through mud and muck Ever closer to a non-existant place Something dropped inside his brain The replay button in his life is stuck You wouldn't know looking at his face For he still smiles and tilts his hat in salute While clearing the dust off the brim And he still gets up every morn with the sun But don't argue, the pointis mute Becuase his journey at least to him Is not even close to being done