Wanderer

Earth and water both are dead

On this path I do now tread.

Past bones of warriors bleached and dry,

Above my head the vultures cry.

Skeletons hands hold swords and knives

Used to steal so many lives.

Again tonight I’ll find my bed

In wooded halls where elves once tread.

Another day another kind

Of hidden trail my feet do find.

A wasted plain from battles of old,

To a haunted pass through mountains cold,

Through mountain fortresses strong and old,

Where the defenders bones have long lain cold.

Countless paths my feet do tread,

Doomed to search for home and bed.

Beneath the stars in the sky,

A lonely wanderer, forever, am I.