Wanderer
Alone he walks,
Covered in secrecy.
Alone he walks,
In devine apathy.
Across the scorched plains,
Through the beautiful meadows,
His clothes tattered and stained.
His eyes,
Dark and light,
Good and evil,
Black and white.
Alone he walks,
Devoid of passion,
Devoid of life,
Through joy and through strife.
By some he was feared,
Some think he went through such sorrow and pain,
That his emotions dissapeared.
None shall know his name,
None shall hear him speak,
With his travels he has gained much fame.
His eyes,
Dark and light,
Good and evil,
The wanderer from the pit of night.
