Out of mighty Egypt
into forsaken desert
I now call home, I have
followed. I have come.

Beckoned by higher call—
Or sent packing?—I’m
never sure which it is.
Or if it’s both.

Now nameless nomad,
stranger in a strange land,
I seek some safe country
to call my home.

Thousands mill around
me, and still I am
alone. Wishing I could
turn back, knowing

There is no turning back.
We walk in circles,
grumbling, crying in
our sleep. We go on.

Art - Digital Designs by Dawn, Copyright 2002