The Wearied Wanderer

The Wearied Wanderer

I, the wearied wanderer, wish for nothing but rest,
But when I have to move, I'm compelled to do my best
When at last I stop, danger is around
And I cannot stop and rest, rest safe and sound.

How I wish for a haven
But it never seems to come by,
and I am stuck in the dreaded lands,
where I am a slave and can do naught but comply.

Wearied do I travel, I travel here and there,
longing, longing, for a good friend in despair
and many such friends I found, but at times out of reach
and thus many a time the dread struck,
and all my defenses were breached

Wearied do I travel, in many a wonderful land
of beauty beyond compare,
but there is still that dread,
and is at times more than I can bear.

But I cannot lose heart,
When it is time to part
From my friends in lands so fair
For my life is in hands of others,
And I cannot give up in despair.