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The Traveler
The follower slides down the mountainsides,
of pale glory, traveling amongst the lines to paradise
Singing sweet melodies into the caverns, dancing along the edges
As the sides speak into the air, what a voice to endure, one of gold
Following this path to the promise land,
of decadent sparkling tan, dazzling the surfaces
Kissing the grounds he walks on, for he knows where he lies is too special
While the follower seeks for the jewel, only to find a cave full of diamonds
Sauntering throughout the forbidden grounds,
allowing the floors to embrace his every move
Seeing that the stars are as green as he imagined them
That the clouds are as beautiful as he pictured them to be
The follower gazes into the sky,
taking in every mountainside, every curve, every edge
Breathing in every floral, every sweet poison
Feeling every crevasse, every bump, everything
He intakes all that he is on, all that he has,
and sees, that with every mountain, every side, every edge
As he gets lost in the stars, in the sea of sparkling hypnosis, singing to the air
How lucky he is, to be in this world, to know such a sight
All to himself
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