The road is endless,
Dry and arid,
Not a touch of moisture,
Nor anything pleasant,
Such as shrubbery
By the sides,
Or the shadow cast
By a lonesome tree.

The going is tough –
The heat from the asphalt
Seeps into the soles
Of the travel weary feet,
Soaking the socks
As it barges in;
That sweat,
Is the only wet,
For miles on end,
On this endless stretch.

The sojourner,
Seemingly has no choice,
But to go on –
Although at times,
It seems pointless;
For where is the beginning
Of the end,
Of this journey?
They seem
Utterly clueless,
Nevertheless,
They keep walking
Because that
Is all they know.