A trudging man wants to visit his town,
And upon his face is a furrowed frown.
He looks to the mountain so far ahead,
He slouches and sighs and slaps his head.

A wanderer greets him from behind,
Wondering why the man had sighed.
Facing the Wanderer, the man had said,
“Look here, friend, the road is dead.”

The Wanderer laughs and simply smiles.
The mountain’s reach flew up for miles.
The man scoffs and cries and moans,
“How on Earth will I reach my home?”

The Wanderer sighs and sits in shadow,
Eyeing the mountain as if it were hallowed.
The man had prepared to confront his foe,
But he needed to ask before he’d go,

“Why do you stare at the mountain so?”
The Wanderer sighed.
“You’d never know.”