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Rusty Broadspear

The wilderness is my one true friend

Always my host, holds all my ghosts,

The wilderness found me, all around me,

Never falters or alters, without end.

No path to follow, echoes so hollow,

Nothing and no one to receive my voice.

Meandering footprints trace a distant past

The future is the present, so shallow.

No new days to greet me, no tomorrows,

Time is fictional, illusory and unreal.

No flowers or trees, no nature at all,

Happiness drowned in a pot of sorrows.

Be my guest, pull up a chair, if you're there.

Eat patience, you'll need it to listen

To my story that beats all imagination

A story that ended, when I recited,

My final prayer.

A story that began with goodbyes 

And cavernous, subterranean lows.

My wilderness calls so whatever befalls

Me, I have my wilderness and grey, grey skies.

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