One step in front of the other,
He marches toward the unknown With no promise But the burning desire To be upon the edge Of living, To find out once and for all If at the end Of all that he can do There waits The land of miracles. It is that land That has been calling him And burning in his bones. It is that land He’s been avoiding In all his worried getting And securing And providing failingly For himself and for his tribe. But the world of getting for himself Is closing up behind him now Like the jaws of a monster From which he narrowly escapes, And there is only the sound Of every footstep falling And the rattle in the throat Of the beast That still insists That he is his, And death, The death that clings to his ribs And squeezes And would extract from him Another drop before he’s gone. And behind him He hears the jeers of those That insist that what they’ve created Is good for them that serve it And that it’s foolishness To question, Foolishness to believe In things you cannot see. But he is finally ruined, He hopes, To the world that soon will fall By its own hand. Oh land! Of miracles. - Receive! And let him dwell forever With those that do believe.
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