Wanderings

The humble arid soil awakes to a newborn dawn...

Wanderings

The humble arid soil
Awakes to a newborn dawn,
Sprouting its hues of buff
As night is softly withdrawn.

From the horizon mounts
A glorious ball of fire,
Ousting the cold and moist
That fiercely prevailed prior.

I leave my current camp –
A voice orders to head west
Towards the Promised Land
In my never-ending quest.