Though I've called your name a thousand times, my words are blown back into my face. The wind makes my skin harder still. The clouds race by over-head and I fight to remain standing, the signs of endless journeys shows in my weakened stance. I wish for the ground to open.
I have been around the world and back, I have re-lived every memory, re-dreamt every dream and felt every touch (again). Still the clouds will race, the wind will cut and soon I will fall. The dust will form a mound that shall be my tomb, never to be whetted by the tears of mourning, because I was lost long ago in a colder world and lost you..... forever?
I believe that each man craves the soul rejuvenation that, for centuries, authors and poets of the world have immortalised through the written and spoken word. I believe that each man wishes to harness the power of the burning sun and rejuvenate the soul that, for many of us, lies dead.
I too have travelled these paths and found that most lead only to a bare world.
