After many days wandering alone I can no longer remember exactly how I came to be here or where I was headed.  I am simply headed south.

This day I happened across an empty home.  It was so small it could be considered a shack instead. It had been abandoned for quite some time as the windows were covered in dust and vines grew tall along the walls.

Inside I found little of use besides this journal. It appears as worn as the home and has had all of its previous entries torn out.  All that remains is the first page and a number of blank pages.

The first page is a poem, listed below with its author:

HAD I the heavens’ embroidered cloths,
Enwrought with golden and silver light,
The blue and the dim and the dark cloths
Of night and light and the half-light,
I would spread the cloths under your feet:
But I, being poor, have only my dreams;
I have spread my dreams under your feet,
Tread softly because you tread on my dreams

-W. B. Yeats

I have decided to respectfully leave it as it is.  Perhaps my dreams will lie beneath your feet as well.

-Tai Serin

A.E. 704  – Autumn