In the hilly land near the mountains,
Traveling south to the smoldering peak,
Where the rising smoke is our sign
We draw inspiration for the smallest
Among our weary group of souls,
Find no room to complain about anything
When our struggle cannot compare
Nearly to the end of this journey,
Or at least this portion of the travels,
Not yet sure what to think when
You show me pursed lips and a cold shoulder
Regardless, we must carry on now,
Approaching the final stretch,
Trees lift us up as we search out
The location of the man at Mt. Sull
_____________________
With the release of every chapter of Below the Land, I will be posting a companion poem. This is the poem related to Chapter 22.
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