Folio - Salt Lake Community College Art and Litereature Magazine

Song Of the Wanderer


Mark Stone

I’ve fought for right
For countless days,
With burning heart
And shining blade.

While wandering on
Life’s lonely road,
I met a friend
To share my load.

My heart was light,
My courage strong,
Until at last
He did me wrong:

I walked upon
A mountain path,
Far from my home,
Where angels pass.

When suddenly
My friend appeared,
His stony gaze
Froze me in fear,

He held aloft
A wicked blade
And with its swings
My hope did fade.

My heart grew cold,
But blade held true—
I blocked his blows
And passed on through.

The sun went down,
And soon the night
Did call to me
To rise and fight.


For evil beasts
Dwelt in the dark,
Who preyed upon
The faint of heart.

I swung the sword
To strike my foes,
But more did rise
To meet my blows.

Blade carried me
On through the dark,
Until at last,
It broke apart.

With weary heart,
I stumbled on.
I thought all hope
Was surely gone.

But sunlight broke
The bitter gloom
To save me from
My utter doom.

Then suddenly,
A maid appeared,
And told me in
A voice most clear,

“Fear not, my friend,
For while I’m here,
You’ll never more
Have need of tears.”

I dropped my blade
To take her hand
And finally found
The strength to stand.

We wandered then
Through pain and dark,
But none of it
Could touch our hearts—
For purest love
Can heal the soul.
Alone, a man
Cannot be whole.