The pilgrim

 

Forlorn and friendless,

Heart fractured and ruptured,

Looking like someone

entirely made of grief and sorrow,

The dreams crumbling to dust,

Viewing this world

as an extension of my pain,

There I walk in the miserable rain

after having lain

in a dark corner almost slain.

 

Each step so heavy

as the dream of a shadow to acquire a form,

Memories come with a roaring incision,

The wounded petals try to

furl the sail in the spring night air,

A step I must take,

Walk I must,

Because walking a single step

away from the garbage

is like a miles long pilgrimage.