It started as a pilgrimage

Exalting minds and making all

The burdens light, The second stage

Explored but did not test the call.

The sun beat down to match our rage.

We stood it very well, I thought ,

Observed and put down copious notes

On things the peasants sold and bought

The way of surpants and of goats.

Three cities where a sage had taught

But when the differences arose

On how to cross a desert patch,

We lost a friend whose stylish prose

Was quite the best of all our batch.

A shadow falls on us and grows .

Another phase was reached when we

Were twice attacked , and lost our way.

A section claimed its liberty

To leave the group. I tried to prey .

Our leader said he smelt  the sea

We noticed nothing as we went ,

A straggling crowd of little hope,

Ignoring what the thunder ment ,

Deprived of common needs like soap.

Some were broken , some merely bent.

When, finally , we reached the place ,

We hardly know why we were there.

The trip had darkened every face,

Our deeds were neither great nor rare.

Home is where we have to gather grace.

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