The Land of Miracles

One step in front of the other,
He marches toward the unknown
With no promise
But the burning desire 
To be upon the edge
Of living,
To find out once and for all
If at the end 
Of all that he can do 
There waits 
The land of miracles.
It is that land
That has been calling him
And burning in his bones.
It is that land 
He’s been avoiding
In all his worried getting
And securing 
And providing failingly
For himself and for his tribe.
But the world of getting for himself
Is closing up behind him now
Like the jaws of a monster
From which he narrowly escapes,
And there is only the sound 
Of every footstep falling
And the rattle in the throat
Of the beast 
That still insists 
That he is his,
And death,
The death that clings to his ribs
And squeezes
And would extract from him
Another drop before he’s gone.
And behind him
He hears the jeers of those
That insist that what they’ve created
Is good for them that serve it
And that it’s foolishness
To question,
Foolishness to believe 
In things you cannot see.
But he is finally ruined,
He hopes,
To the world that soon will fall
By its own hand.
Oh land!
Of miracles.  - Receive!
And let him dwell forever
With those that do believe.