He was walking on a world; and lonely is the world.
He was walking towards the Sun, that never comes.
That never comes.
Everyday life was like a journey for the walker; because his whole life a journey was.
And never ever could find what he was looking for.
Because lonely is the world...
...He did ride 1.000 oceans to find her river.
But the destiny didn't want, because he was born to walk.
Born to walk.
And as the juif errant; his days were a neverending journey: to wander was his sign; as the wandering jew.
And seven seas he sailed away.
And nowhere was where, did stay.
The distance was his friend, food and home: could not see the Sunlight in his days anymore.
Because his name was not found in the Skylove; his place wasn't found anymore among the love of God.
Because he was walking on a word.
And lonely is the word.
.
