Wanderer

Dry earth tumbles through the hot, arid breeze like ashes
In the dusty fields around me.

In the distance the branches of the scorched trees
Twist in agony.

I walk the sooty path carved into the parched earth by
Travelers long past.

Somewhere beyond me a lone wolf sings his mournful melody
Of lost love and loneliness

Into the night.

The dust settles around my bare, blackened feet –
The mark of a Wanderer – and clings to them.

The last of humanity, the end of an era,
Trudges through the finally fading failures

Of mankind’s tragedy.