THE DAY

T H E  land was barren, the sky was black, the air was frigid but there wasn't time for slack. All seemed lost, amid the frost of stolen hope and manufactured faith, yet the people pressed on.

Long nights in small strides, every step to change the tides, for the sake of all their hides-- present and future. It wasn't for money, it wasn't for power, or any one religion though they prayed by the hour. They trudged through all the misery and soul-sucking pain, marching into the snow, surviving the icy rain.

They traversed the desolate world, their ancestors created, molded by greed and segregation of the ill-fated. The people climbed mountains of judgment and rivers of sorrow, all for the chance of a happier tomorrow. Across valleys of despair, over volcanoes of rage, each person living their own chapters, page by page.

Some died in the journey and new lives were born, all the people teaching them the path away from scorn. They quenched their blood-thirst on love and filled their violent-stomachs with hope, whatever it took to peacefully cope.

Though the land was barren and the sky was black, their will was the way, to a better future and return of D A Y. 

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