The rain tears down, mud thick under foot
as leg mechnically falls into place, monotonous
as grey and brown meld together; stone, field and sky
reflecting each into each, muddying the barriers between.
Churning feet, like oars parting the sea
arms pulled close for heat, for comfort against boredom,
as waiting and walking will not wane in this weather.
Spiralling out, thoughts replace action as the primary objective.
Destination, people, places, all so far away and
progress slow, marching on regardless, chipping away.
Let us reach the valley of Light. Let us reach this place
before we turn to stone, to mud, to grass, to rainclouds.
Guide our hands, guide our feet, guide our hearts.
Guide our souls, guide our minds, guide our eyes.