Onward they trudge.
Tall and gaunt to the point of starvation, they trudge.
Ever onward they trudge
through the narrow Ice Caverns of Karst.
Onward to the Silent Monastery at the end of time.
Although I typically write traditional poetry that rhymes, I occasionally write free verse when the Muse moves me. For example, They Trudge actually came to me in a dream in which I was wondering who the figures were and where they were going.
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