The limitless haze unfolds
Mountains behind mountains fade in purple beyond.
Behind the sun hides
Feet in the dust which crumbles
Bones of an ancient wall dying ever slowly
My back against stone
My guide says the winds don't stop
And at the crest of the mountain ridge, on my face.
The wind never stops
Walk along the cool morning
March with the crenellated sentinels to see
The desolate sun
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