I

I have no water, I have wine, and I know we will all die.

I place my foot on the ground, deliberately rolling it in front of the other. I do this again, and I do it many more times. The pack is weighing my other shoulder down. I look forward, but I'm not sure if I can see anything. It doesn't matter if we travel in darkness or in light, because darkness will obscure and light will blind.

In a moment of bewilderment I stretch my arms and feel for a hem, an arm. I look for another human being to keep me company. I am here to be found as well. We hope for song and dance, clapping of hands. You do what you can.

I know out there there are those who believe in a promised land. I have met some of them, but there is not much to talk about. So I take out the wine and share.

My gear is dusty. My mind is rusted. So is this all there is? I keep going on and hope to bump into something.

II

There was darkness, and there was land. The country was desolate with nary a plant, the wiry creatures shy. There was no border, no crossing, not one prickly pear to mark our entrance. That is how we stumbled into the land of judgement. Keep your whimper. Silence your thirst. With nothing in sight the righteous resorted to judging each other, so one part was punished and the other part fled.

Forgive us.

We grow weary for we know of love, that never came. We knew better than to wait for it. We have so much hope we should sell it in parcels.

Here is our campsite tonight and tomorrow we'll go on. Pass the dry bread, pour the sour wine.