There was a time
   when time was real --
   when a traveler might head out
   for a destination with every
   expectation that he would 
   arrive to such a place as 
   was lodged in his memory...

Only to find a desolate place --
   overgrown and vacant --
   cold ash long blown from the fires,
   intermixing with the soil.

If one's journey was long enough,
   one might wonder whether everything 
   had been fine when one set out,
   and whether tragedy had struck
   and nature reclaimed during those 
   long days on the trail.