Lone Pilgrim Poem by RoseAnn V. Shawiak

Finding myself at last, a lone pilgrim in a world of
life, portraying loneliness, fraught in a state, a
void, empty.

Where are the mantles of yesterday? Have they all
been chiseled and tossed away? Am I too, supposed
to leave, is my usefulness done?

Sojournly down dry brown paths of life, I travel,
finding nothing to quench my thirst for knowledge.

No one to give me truth. Verdant pastures, I have
not found.

Morosely set upon a stone, moss gathers round my
feet.

There are no ways, no life, to be found in this
land, finding only death gripped in skeleton hands.