Distant crags
decorate horizon,
promise rising hope
to come.
Someday.
Now?
Parched, skeletal limbs
coated in windswept powder
aching for quench.
Sigh.
White knuckles,
fingers clench.
Distance,
hither to yonder
unknown,
creeping longer
with every step.
Scent of decay wafts
spring evening breeze.
Soul
sapping
isolation.
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