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...