The Hermit

The way ahead is empty, and there is a breeze blowing in like a wastrel from the North, shuffling across the empty plains, plucking at my clothes as I contemplate what lies ahead of me. Alone I stand, alone in a lonely landscape, no creature or tree to greet me, no bird to call my name, no song to embrace my heart, alone in a world of my own creation, where I seek to find the meaning I need today.

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