Wasteland

Across the icy wasteland, wind whistles In low tones, tearing bits of warmth from My weary walking soul. Softly but surely I tread through frozen fields, trembling With cold so cruel, a constant all my days As I journey across the land. A lonely place, This is, memories of merrier times my sweet Comfort when the storm clouds crowd above. Still, well worn memories lose their sharpness And then I truly am alone, the crunch Of crackling ice beneath my feet the Only sound in this, a dark bleak world. For so far, I traveled, but even the strongest Soldier fails, after a time, and I stumbled, Slipped, and suddenly I knew I was lost, Limbs broken, day growing later and night Creeping upon me; I was finished, a corpse Growing colder, alone on the road in the dark. I hadn’t imagined that someone would save me, See me fall and fail, then give up all hope; Yet in the darkness, lamp lifted high, he Knelt beside me; “Dear one. I am here.” As the wind whistled around us, he picked Up my pitiful form and carried me across The final stretch, to safety and warmth. So it was there in that terrible darkness That I met the most faithful friend.