WITHOUT KINDNESS on its stalk the corn flames towards the mouth above the sky turns white a roof of bone there are journeys of wandering farther that go on day and night beyond your mind's reach a touch that falls short of the hand that wants to give it dawn spreads its hair on the sky's edge a pillow that is hard enough there is no rest there night has followed its tossing through an opening the traveller will never follow the travel and the rest are shared with no one no meal no cooling drink suffices or can restore that man has no welcome ahead of him he has gone on past where going on can stop he cannot remember how to open himself to shelter or to another's hand pausing as it moves startling to feel if only it were kind