Carry Onward

I light my torch and hold the flame above the ocean sea.
The wind suggests it all will end, whimpering softly.
The Road has wound around and round the hillocks of the land,
and ends alike a rivers mouth upon the beaches sand.

I have travelled for so long, my soles have turned to bricks,
Coarse and heavy, treading on the rocks and prod with sticks
That I cannot feel the sand that squirms inbetween my toes –
The wetted sand upon the edge of places no one even knows.

It’s cold underneath the deep dark enwalled dome;
The torch in my hand makes me forget I’m all alone.
I’m warmed ever slightly by its gentle little flame,
That I’ll carry home, through the thunder and the rain.

But I don’t even know where my home will be anymore.
And what if I can’t find one?

And I don’t even know if I can bring the flame to it.
So what will I do if I don’t?

The land which I came from will soon be razed and fallen.
What if I never remake it?

I would be completely alone.

Tomorrow brings the worried questions their answer,
And today does not, so it won’t be my concern,
I will worry first of the stepping of my tattered old boots,
Step by step, moving to new land to make new roots.