Literature
Travels in the Gray Land
Once, wise men said the Earth was flat,
Now they say a sphere
But I the traveler have seen
A world arranged in tiers.
It’s three steps up and three steps down
With nothing in between
Each step a realm unto itself
One Black, one Gray, one Green.
The uppermost, the sunlit land
Is bright with verdant choir
Babbling brooks and rustling reeds
Birdsongs in the briar.
Down below, the Black Land sleeps
Silent and austere
Into this reverent quietude
All must disappear.
The middle tier, a hidden plane,
Of neither sun nor shade
A misty, lonely everscape
Where those like me have strayed.
The Gray Land has no native souls
All wanderers are we
Durationless, directionless
Upon this rocky sea.
Gnarled trees and shallow caves, the
Total of existence
Scattered mountains, looming tall, but
Always in the distance.
For company, a walking stick
My friend, my aid, my guide
The gravel-dust turns somersaults
Beneath our matching stride.
We rarely stop, my staff and me,
We trek and traipse along
For in
