There Are Many Strange Things Here

There are many strange things here, I have found nothing like me, as I wander these plains, deep into the night, the absence of light, consoles me, and scares me, I ask what I believe to me my mother, who sings into my ear, throught the wind, who I am and why i walk, and she tells me to, keep walking. I go towards a horizon, that keeps shifting, as my footsteps leave marks on the dust, that I walk on, I wonder if the sky is dust too, Dusk, she tells me when the sun dies. Things walk near me in the day, always in the periphery, of my vision, but I feel them watching me, they feel I am nourishment, just as I fear they are predator, I hasten my pace, but my mother tells me to slow, and so I do, musculature yielding, to the vibration of her voice, messages from a god, the only one I know, and the one I have been formed to serve, as a definition of my being. I look for a friend in the wastes, there are none, and likely never will be, mother has explained this before, mother has told me,…