In Exile

Tip-
toeing
over
the shifting
sands of
my
existence,
dissolving mists for a guide,
I glimpse home again
yet remain unseen.

But my flame is lit,
tempting song to
the caged bird 
enough 
for dreams of flight
to un-
fold.

In exile I roam,
hunting on mountain tops;
under valley stones
parched tongue thirsting
for rain-filled earth
lost between the fading echoes
of a
thousand silenced rivers.