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When I woke up, I felt sick. I sat up in bed, realizing I was already late for work. Then suddenly the memories of the previous night flooded into my recollection and I fell back onto my bed.

My sister was dead, and I would never get to see her get married and become a mother, which was always her wish. But it would never be. My anger again was aroused, and I spoke aloud to God, saying, "Why, Lord, have you taken my sister's life? Do you not have any consideration for human kind?"

 “Who are you there, walking past my gate?”

“A man of the road, my lady,

whose wings are his feet,

whose home is the highway,

whose friends are his staff and his song.”

“Where are you going, Man of the Road?”

“Over the hill, my lady,

on towards the mountains,

on towards the sea,

on with the call of the wind.”

“What are you seeking, Man of the Road?”

“The rainbow’s gold, my lady,

and the song of the lark,

and the sunset’s fire,

and the light of the moon on the sea.”