This Indeed I Must Do

Why, when I love more, am I loved less? Why, traveling deeper into the frontier, am I further forsaken by travelers? I try to understand. I want to know. But my mind refuses to acknowledge what it doesn't already recognize. My heart, raised to be beholden, was reared tender to the touch. But there is something pulling, drawing my heart beyond itself. And my feet, one before the other, lead to an unknown land. As my eyes' darkness falls, the light grows more intense. The heat of what calls me burns all that I cherish. Although I tremble, a certainty impresses itself. This indeed I must do.


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