the journeyman wanders alone
lost in a mysterium
cold as a wintered frost bleak
upon the planet of his birth
he greets another man bent in the opposite direction
they tarry for a moment
and compare their earthly transists
a lady and a child nameless at the fellows side
are worn beneath the anvil of the Sun
they sleep with no story to volunteer
save the hope
carved on the face of their silent dreams
Flynnpoetry 