Wayfarer
Elliott Sansom
Raging waters spit upon the tattered and torn apparel
Billowing winds carry the cries of a thousand failed journeys before him
Struggling mindlessly through the quagmire
Each step frozen in the cold grip below
Will this tireless march ever reach its conclusion?
Three hundred nights feeling naught but confusion
Failed endeavour of cross country yearning
Under the open air, madness claims another
Madness claims another