Across the land I wander far and wide,

without a home.

I wander over deserts bare and bleak,

without a path.

I cross the mountain white with snow,

without a rest.

I travel over mesas wide,

but cannot stop.

I hurry onward through the night,

but cannot sleep.

I move through canyons dark and forests deep,

and there I weep.

WHO AM I?

November 2, 1993

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