With care I tread,
stepping along the divide,
watchful to neither slip
nor fall.
For though it matters little
whether I tumble,
or choose my way down,
I know that change will come.
To the South
lie cities, towns,
roads, and people,
and beasts grazing
in fields of waving grass,
that stretch to the horizon:
the world
from which I came.
And to the North:
a steep expanse of ice,
glittering whitely,
gives way
to a vast panorama
of spruce and pine.
Empty, and unknown,
it calls to me.
Take my hand,
please,
and come with me,
for I am afraid.
Take my hand,
and come with me,
north
of the divide.
All Writing.Com images are copyrighted and may not be copied / modified in any way. All other brand names & trademarks are owned by their respective companies.
Generated in 0.06 seconds at 10:16pm on Nov 23, 2024 via server WEBX1.