In shadows found and well for you we never meet, long this road hath trod my weary feet.
Watchers wary in the dark hear my song and well do hark, i have no time for rest and wine for ever into shadow the road does twine.
O’er hill and dell, past purest well and unto grave mound fell. Fearless sure but heartless too. Tis my fate, i shall not rue.
Whither hence i cannot say, i shall not know nor rest until my final day, when i shall lay my weary head down by the dusty way.
To seek the sleep of ages past a new crumbling road to find and walk at last, again and again and ever onward into yawning dark.


Published by

Jacko Steenekamp

To sum myself up is simple. I'm weird.

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