What can we do but travel on
What dust would cake our boots, and
Hold us back- how could we carry on?
How can we stop our travels now
What sun would warm our backs, and
Send us home- How could we stop?
Why should we tarry here for moments rest
What rest would slake our thirsts, and
Lay us down- How could we sleep?
What worries would we bother with
What tales would we so gladly tell, and
Leave as legacy- what wonders now await?
What clearing lies beyond this path
What ends are there for weary souls, and
what beginnings- what new roads to walk?