The Pilgrim’s Journey

A weary and angry pilgrim on futile journeys,
Plods through dark forests and old mountains,
Hauling heavy, worthless burdens from the ice age.
A wonderful world drowned in imaginary fear and hate


Once a beautiful, unblemished heart now a pile of festering rubbish
Self-inflicted pains and complaints often a blatant attraction,
The loud, prolonged laughter, a poisoned spear
Everyone’s heart feels her venom through a whisper


Memories of wars fought with cheetahs and mountain leopards,
Scary scars from sharp claws to a skull of white shards,
Left deep wounds to her chest and still fogs the heart
Evil she sees in the world ensnares her from true love


Weeping and wishing through pattering rains and cold nights.
A gust of wind and hailstorm rattle the mind with thoughts
Leaving her eyes frosty and blind, and body cold to touch
The lull of a wind singing sweet, meaningless tunes


Freckled with pains and patches from deadly punches,
She crawls plain hills with a heavy hunch,
Smiling to the scorching and dazing sun,
In search of havens heaving with unknown foes
Eager to abandon her only hope to the wolves,
The pilgrim can’t hear clash cymbals clang again

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