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Last night I had a dream;. I try to cry for help,. But my tears get stuck in my lacrimal,. My voice struggles with my larynx. I hear your voice calling to me,.
On a swaying branch of a withered tree. On a lonely road in a lonely night. Is a wanderer worn out of his walking might. On endless windings in-between the forest,. Yet he wills his sore feet on to the quest. To find his lost village and family. From which he was taken at infancy. On a swaying branch of a withered tree. The flapping bird rests for another flight spree. Across large expanse of dry grassland. Between the scorching sun and the red sand. In search of food despite the famine.
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