Contributed by: The White Wizard
The Traveler
I stand upon the buried mountain of my youth,
I look up to view the sun and ask: “what is the truth?”
I look below to the see the valley of life,
The woods below are filled with strife.
And as I tread upon my chosen trail,
What sort of life will I entail?
Comments (0)
The Wizard's Manse
http://www.palewizard.com/article.php/20100816100515952