The cold dying air was still
He could not see in the darkness
There was no answer in the chill

In his travels he met many creatures
None of them could shed any light
And bring into focus any features

His internal light was kept a flame
Fueled by the children from a
Man with no name

Every corner and hill looked like the last
A never ending journey into the darkness
The only spark it seemed, being carried by the outcast

In the distance, a voice is heard
He could hardly hear it, did he want to?
A voice with no soud, is the absurd?

The voice grew louder, passion filled the air
Foreign to him was the sound, plain and beautiful
Could this be something for witch he could care?

The voice became part of him, moving him like a pawn
"I will be your guide into the future, my sweet?"
and then with a light neve before seen, there it was... The dawn