In the distance where two plains collide
shadow shimmers with seductive glamour
faintly outlining the spine of the world
as it dances like demons of flame.
A man walks slowly, a figure in dust
silent, determined, his boots skirt the earth
he follows darkness toward unknown mountains
at one with all worlds, moving on.
There in the sand the boy met the man
in an empty relic of eternities lost
way station of truth, imagination
where the speaking demon sleeps.
On the trail again, the two of them
into the oracle’s tortured embrace
erotic prophecy of the lonely and damned
three is the number of fate.
Into darkness, the travelers plunge
devoured by mountains, swallowed
by stone, slow mutants groan
dying by fire from sandalwood and steel.
Through days of pitch at the end of the line
a sinister silhouette tauntingly stares
at a choice on which infinity hinges
the Tower or the boy, the Tower…
"Go then," he said as he dropped to his death
the Gunslinger watched another love die
for the sake of the Tower, ka can be cruel
as it spins and turns through universes.
The man in black, a blade of grass
palaver in a place of skulls
the Prisoner, Lady, Pusher revealed
inside of night never ending.
From golgotha to the Western Sea
the last of an Order, the one who must
find the Tower beyond the horizon
alone in all worlds, moving on.