Through The Desert
Through the desert he walked, after the portraits he painted were lost, after all the dreams he dreamt were gone, dreams of happiness and of peace, dreams of freedom and of ease. For days and days on end he trod with everything gone but his faithful gun. With all as history he had no present and therefore could fathom no future so he walked across the big broad road just as he had done before, but now with no hope, no noble quest, no life left in his bones only a faithful gun about its host, all hope was lost and all chance was gone but then a hopeful glimmer shone.
His past was only but a pun and his future a great taste of glory
Every man has to go through a desert but no man can walk out on his story.
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