Musing: Traveler

By the foot of the hills he stood to look back

Waving to images, thin from the long distance

I was among those thin images that stood afar

Watching as he disappeared from our glance

He had left stories in our mouths and hearts

Taught us that we must leave the quiet village,

To learn from the moving train of soldier ants

To go beyond the hills and bring success back

The golden sun was just setting

But he was already gone

The little ones will know little of him

And we must wait for his return

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