I step from place to place
As the walls begin to fall around my head

Distant are the rolling hills
And weary is my brow

A hat is donned
So that we may remember ourselves

A story is completed
So that the many reflections may flourish

I stand atop the ruins of castles in the land of light
And I climb forgotten peaks in the land of giants

I yell a great yell to wake those who slumber
Only then to be chased in great numbers

The gods, they whisper quiet whispers
And strengthen weakened ears

They encircle from head to toe
And enliven dulled hearts

They appear in subtle ways
And sharpen clouded eyes

If I hear, I cannot listen
If I listen, I am

If I touch, I cannot feel
If I feel, I am

If I look, I cannot see
If I see, I am

If there is, there is
I shall search for remains

And if there is not
That remains to be seen

I fly from place to place
As the roads do then close in around my feet

I am but a seed in the wind
One of the many… One of the all…

© Sayer Teller

Jot a thought

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