So true, the closer the destination.
The further it be… out of grasp.
So true, the ice forming over the grass.
What to make of an end…
I cannot meet.
Obvious, the hindered earth underneath my feet.
Jagged bone of soil all around.
Veiled hollowed abound.
Sometimes the miles traveled.
Seem not worthy my trial.
Whatever tomorrow brings.
Can it be worthy of my journey’s denial.