Found

lost in the dark
the wanderer stumbles,
scrapes his knees –
feeling his way
through solitude’s poisonous thorns.

despair attempts to crush his heart
in its paralyzing grasp
and his tear-stained voice
echoes
through the emptiness.

the hidden form
of the silent moon
takes pity,
bathes the wanderer
in gentle light
and guides him, slowly
back to safer paths.

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