The first step into a hundred mile wild
sets you trembling like a child.
It's a pathless place that pulls you along.
Look back - the way you came is gone.
The first breath into a hundred mile wild
sings with the smoke of a thousand fires
drifting dark from the bridges you've burned.
The wildfire wind, it never turns.
The first day into a hundred mile wild
you take bones for bit and bridle.
The spurs that shred your skin are your own.
You bleed the lie that you're not alone.
The first night into a hundred mile wild
the constellations gather round
to whisper back all the wishes you made
on falling stars you couldn't save.
The other side of a hundred mile wild
is the missing verses of the Bible,
the lover you can't live without,
the sermon come down from the mount.
It's the only way out.
For Hannah's prompt at Real Toads