The Explorer

I wish that I'd been born

two hundred years ago,

before all had been explored

and everything was known.

I'd cross the rolling plains

through bitter sleet and snow,

and give the mountains names

For a girl I used to know.

I'd sleep beneath the sky

by the glowing, crackle's warmth

and plan tomorrow's ride

debating south or north.

There would be days of hunger,

and days of lonesome dread,

nights without a slumber

as the worries swirled my head.

But there'd too be days of glory

Days, when all was well

Days, I'd share in stories,

that were surely worth the hell.

I'd eat from nature's bounty.

I'd drink the glacial melt,

and love the world around me

with a peace I've never felt.

Hell, I'd been good for nothing,

two hundred years ago,

save for chasing something

across the great unknown;

A relentless drive and feeling

To explore, and see, and know.