- Wanderlostby wanderlost
This work has reached the exceptional level
Updated with a few new stanzas
Wanderlost by wanderlost

A thousand years pass by like days
Frigid echoes, desert haze
Ne'er did Shakespeare's tragic plays
Bear this woe into the fray

The road less taken's often bare
Earth's custodian ne'er there
To fix the tears from lack of care
And reknit the stitches wear

And passersby the path behold
All well know the path was sold
To the passive, born in the fold
The air once free, sloth cajoled

With wanderlust a few now stand
Scouring mountains, turning sand
In search of Frost's forgotten land
The path that time remands

Once thought to be a noble race
And copious, with perfect grace
Passing years have hid their face
Conformity now giving chase

Now privileged ranks control the earth
Weighing out each person's worth
Their tolls impeding progress forth
Reveling in moral dearth

Those with defiance in their heart
Face them with erudite art
Would seek to tear their world apart
Will have lost before the start

The path-borne few who strive to seek
The course they knew, now bespeak
'Where is our way, that fine antique?
Our hopes have embittered bleak'

Unto the end they will not find
Not in woods, or ocean's brine
The obscure Eden of their kind
For 'tis long ago resigned

They stop pursuits with hearts austere
Seeing states to be severe
Concealing all their muted fear
Knowing that their end is near

So off they go with fearless pride
Past masses of empty eyes
Through barren lands of stoic sighs
Those of the path must leave or die.



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