As Ever Like the Sun & Moon at War

1- ☼☼

 Another day, but still this winding road

beneath our Pilgrim's heels making tracks,

the sun above remaining ever hot,

a blist'ring disk of flame and cruelty

whose purpose singular is to destroy

this barren biome's last inhabitants,

who struggle still beneath its temp'rature

and try as may surviving on this land

so scroch'd of any peace they may desire,

that only conflict twixt the weak and strong                 10

determines who survives and who's a meal.

With scene now set you understand the plight

our Pilgrim sees himself as faced against,

though fed and water'd by a woman met                        

at later point of yesterday's events

and carrying with him provisions bought

at market square where coin did mean to them

more than his status as a vagabond;

supplies however are not infinite

and soon he knows his purchas'd carry-on                  20

will dwindle or will rot and he shall find—

depleted of his stock—he shall be forc'd

to seek and then rely upon the good

or apathy of strangers once again,                           

as is the curse of vagrants such as he

who own not land themselves on which to grow

and reap a bounty fresh of wheat and fruit

or drain a goat to sip at creamy milk

or pluck the eggs unfertiliz'd from fowl

or butcher cattle, growing fat on meat;                     30

such is his plight until this road should end

and grant to him a means of sustenance

renewable to him without the need

for most uncertain kindness granted him                

reluctantly and warily and oft

it not at all by humankind, who are

suspicious of nomadic foreigners

within their settlements in which one must

be born to be consider'd citizen.

Still unaccepted Pilgrim carries on                     40

applying just one foot before the next

when comes behind the waxing sound of hooves

of two or more equines; he can't be sure

til turning, whereat doth he spot the shapes                

of many horses rode by many men

with scimitars that jostle on their hips.

Our Pilgrim panics at the sight of them