I met a traveler from an antique land,
Who said, "In the vast expanse of the
Desert, where many a hardy Wanderer dare not
Tread, one can find a Caravan circling the
Wastes in a familiar route, accompanied by bands
Of strange creatures with horns and claws, stingers
And venom. If one catches this group and
Brings to them a token of older days
Now known only through fond remembrance, such as
A tooth from a grandfather or a mother's
Venom necklace, they will give stories, tales of
Times gone by with magic in them, a
Strange power that can transport one to landscapes
At once familiar and foreign. For a time,
They permit one to return to the verdant
Grasses and blazing stars of one's youth, the
Scenes all aglow with a majesty not found
Even in fondest memory. However, you can only
Linger out of time for so long before
The fire of narrative, hopelessly fragile thing that
It is, begins to splutter and fade, pulling
You out of the trance of reminiscence and
Revealing that the Caravan, restless and transient, has
Left you on your own in the Desert,
The lone and level sands stretching far away."
Lone and Level Sands
page revision: 5, last edited: 12 Apr 2025 01:36