We braved the rivers and the storms, the snakebites and the sand, the steepest hills you ever saw in the most forsaken land; we pressed on and on for days and days - got sunk, got swamped, got stuck - and starved and nearly died of thirst and scraped through by purest luck. Janie died of cholera. Robert got the flu. A gun backfired in Billy's face yet somehow we scraped through We crossed the deserts without a hitch; got on the ferry and capsized (a waste of five dollars, on top of that) but would not let go our lives. Then we reached our destination, the point of all this quest. The journey's done, we're really here; and realized, you might have guessed - When a goal you seek to find And find it and your hard-earned rest It's not the goal that matters most But the long, unending quest
Reason for writing:
I think it required a great deal of courage to give up your old life, sell most of your belongings, and pack up your remaining few in a wagon, to set out on a real life 'adventure' where death and injury were a persistent possibility that loomed up ahead wherever you went.
Birth sign: Not entered
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