Lugging a mass

1.
I carry the weight
Of myself, through the
Land, alive and burning,
I hoist the pack steadily,
On my back, to decode the
Grass,
The prairie,
My fire spreading through the dirt, and on,
I must stalk the orbiting sun.
2.
Night, when it paws in,
Curious, my pack will reveal the
Hardship I have dealt and
The dreams
I have left, in alleys barren,
To search another pursuer.
3.
The burning orb, descendant of light
And fire, does not
Want to play hide and seek.
-CS

A poem about life, about trekking on through the obstructions and obstacles and encumbrances.