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She is Looking for a Sign

She is running, running
Forever running
in an endless landscape.
The bleached white sands
and the grey-streked sky
continue in their monotone
Endlessly.
Even the moon never moves,
and all seems fixéd
in this frozen space.
The only thing that changes
is the texture of her skin,
as it dries, ages, roughens,
scarred all over
by the constant daggers
of the icy wind.

She has been running
for an undefined eternity,
still looking, seeking,
searching for the tiny difference
that would mark
her path back home.
But the landscape continues,
and stays unchanged,
and she's still lost, dying,
waiting for
some signal
that could save her
from this desolate,
desolate
destiny.

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