Lonely Traveler

Across the loney plains,
And threw these desolate mountains,
The weary traveler roams.
With the sun passing overhead-
Often hidden as it sheds and eiery light-
And the moon morphing with the tide-
Always glaring down upon him-
The traveler seeks the one he must find.
In his past life he was far unhappy
And as a blacksmiths apprentice passed his days,
Always wondering
Always yearning
For that thing he could not find.
Til one day that crone appeared.
She came to him
And no one else
With beads and bones
Adorning her hair and shawl.
Filth clung to her
With a stench upon the air
But she came to him
And spoke his fate.
"Leave this place and don't look back.
Across the land,
Beyond the mountains far,
Near the shore of the ocean calm
Beneath the shade of the willow tree,
You'll find that thing for wich you yearn.
That woman who holds your heart for you."
With that she left,
Her bone clad hair chiming
And her dead leg dragging.
The man looked around,
Now a stranger ot his friends.
With her words he departed;
The forge still burning
And the steel still heating.
To find the woman who held his heart.
Across these lonely plains
And threw these desolate mountains
The Weary Traveler Roamed.
The lands he crossed.
The mountains he tread.
The ocean he could hear.
That lone willow tree still he sought,
To find the one that held his heart.