Past that green pasture and the setting sun,
He walked, shriveled with his stamina subdued, with a desire that shined within him as a magnificent twinkle,
As he sauntered, with his legs aching, his throat begging for water and his stomach wailing for food.

He grinned at the wind as it blew alongside him.
Strolling past the elegant and depleting cities and half-mended highways,
Wandering past the bombarded slums and waste of spaces,
He held his breath for a godsend angel since the time he departed from home,
Past the set of streaks of yellow and orange dawn and the descending of bleak night,
He hiked, his cane pounded and bruised, smiling all the way, thirsty and starved.

He watched the snows as they drifted beneath his wounded feet, he watched the sun as it scorched his eyes...
The rain as it drizzled his fears away,
All those fibs and truths and the prejudice and misoghiny, he strode past it all.
Inks dispersed all over the books and pages, over the arms and bodies,
Blood flooded over the streets and the hint of remaining upheaval, he walked past that all.

Sobs, screams and laughter, hollers and delights, life and death,
Some glamorous, some majestic, some hideous and some unbelievably dark...
Enduring them all, not a sound he uttered, he strided past them all.
His cane tutted onto the rough freeways, abiding for its master to rest.

He waddled underneath the long way brigdes, beneath the heavy waterfalls,
Above the high mountains, above the sloppy hills,
Witnessing everything the world has to offer, he resisted through it all.
Downfall was behind him waiting to engulf him until he tripped and ceased to function.

However, he still walked knowing the foreign dangers ahead of him...
With a distinct courage, he hoped he could shoot across through the obstacles binding his path, waiting for him to fall and declare defeat.
He still walked, hundreds, thousands, million miles away, waiting for his miracle to occur.

© beautiful monkey