I would love to know who chooses to walk through the desert
What scout that dumbly thinks the orange dunes of nothing are where he’d like to be.
Despite my mocking I find myself walking,
Towards the never-ending horizon where my journey’s finish lies.
My legs burned like the sun-baked sand
I hadn’t stopped since the journey began
A long beard masked my once-clean face
And I demanded from the gods a place to rest or even reconnect
With the civilization that I had once denounced and fled.
At some point on I grew a second head
I know not when, it felt as if he were always with me
He had a distaste for his body
That made me question why he chose to join me.
I asked him why and he reminded me of the sword at my side
Which could provide a quick and easy solution
I like my blood so I let him stay, and we agreed to an uneasy union.
He talked nonstop for days on end
And his disdain for the desert disturbed me
I reminded him to have some reverence for where we stepped
And our tension came to a head.
Or two.
He pointedly told me I pointed toward myself in my scolding
And asked me to tell him why I walked in the first place.
I was confused to find that I could not
And I didn’t even know how long I’d been here.
The chattering head cackled and said that I’d lost the path of my vision.
My blurry eyes had stared straight ahead with no regard for the land
And that I should really stop and smell the sand.
And he was right, I must confess.
And I slowly realized he had in mind only my best.
I still know not where I’m trying to go
And the head still won’t shut up
But now I walk through forests and sail overseas
And stop for every sight I see.