Little Bit 'O Rain by Amos Lee

trusty

pilgrim faces   almost
halfway there

i soar

all by myself   in
my artistic ways,

pressing forward

like    a metal jaguar
on

front of a car.
my

stone face, my ceramic    hair
in

ghostly breezes:    i press on.
there
is a goal,

and
i shall find it.

i only stop
for
the

indubitably forward movement

of
motion, in its finest sense,
on a ship

bound
for solitary

frontiers...