You, who wanders this broken land, seem to carry a weariness I know too well. We are but seeds in the great field, hoping for sun and gentle rain. Perhaps, together, we can find a way to make this ground fertile once more.
You, who wanders this broken land, seem to carry a weariness I know too well. We are but seeds in the great field, hoping for sun and gentle rain. Perhaps, together, we can find a way to make this ground fertile once more.