My pockets are filled
With bubbles and lost dreams
Rune stones and plastic rings
Somewhere in the space between
My youth and now
I seem to have lost
The scent of my purpose
I wander now
Into lands best not mentioned
For thier names have the power
To curse the unwary traveller
Into getting themselves lost
Anolg the way
I think that perhaps it
May be too late for that though
As the weight of one thousand
Dreams of unity
Come crashing down upon
These weakened shoulders
I cry out for water
But find only salt
And the vauge smell of sulfer
To strengthen this thirst
As I fall down again
For the final time
All I can see
Is your face
~Matt Magus
p.s. This is an odd one. I'm not sure if my meaning came across quite right. Oh, well...
