They walk; slowly across sleeping fields.
Silent footsteps; accompanied by a fading light.
Noise travels through the looming power lines;
as wolves & crows gather in their wake.

They never get lost; yet they never arrive.
A low hum brings them to their path.
The chill they breathe seems to match the distortion of metal structures.
Electric air floods into the open; but there is nothing there.

Every field has an end;
every structure has a limit to its reach.
A prayer can only reach so far;
'cause every soul has an expiration date.


(You can't follow their tracks;
unless you want to loose yourself in the path of nothingness.)