I wander the wasteland singing songs of pain
as a beacon to the lost.
When they find me, I take their stories of
heavy hearts and point them the way towards
civilization.
Relieved, they go on while their vultures
join mine circling overhead.
In this parched landscape, there are rocks
of honor; cactus of the memories for those
who have left; mirages of promise; and the
dried up springs of hopes and dreams.
I exist day-by-day, scavenging sustenance
whenever possible, sharing the meager gifts
with the few in contact.
Maybe, someday, someone will need me to join
them on the journey to the world.
Until then, I struggle on forlorn while the
Sun beats relentlessly down.