Promised Land

Lonely roads I've walked
Uneven, cobbled-stone streets
With barren fields on its side
Arid, dry, lifeless.

In a distance, a man walks
His face down, never looking up
Upon me he lifts his face and smiles
Slowly he walks by.

Another man walks beside me
Held my hand, leading me
To what seems an ocean far beyond
Onto it we went, only to see a mirage.

Again I went by my lonesome
To that lonely road
Beckoning me to continue
This trek to a promised land.

A crossroad, the first man returned
This time with face up, beaming
With hands reaching out, offering
Slowly I held them, step by step.

Trek we did on this not so lonely road
Farther, uphill we climbed, hand in hand
Lo! and behold before us lies
A valley of flowers of unknown kind.

Upon the horison birds fly
Spreading their wings upon the mountainside
By my side he still stands
Holding my hands, he leads me to the promised land.

Sept. 6, 1998
11:40 p.m.