Across the desert’s shifting sands,
Through the snow of frozen lands,
Things that stop the bravest man,
Do not slow The Traveler.

He sets forth to find the thing,
That binds us in an endless ring,
Be he pauper or be he king,
It’s the same to The Traveler.

No one knows from which he’s sent,
He’s not a thing of mortal men,
He brings new with every end,
In life and death is The Traveler.

Every land gives him a name,
Ever different, yet the same,
As if giving one will make him tame,
But no one holds The Traveler.

He will come to take his claim,
Set you free but bound in chain,
He will always find you again,
No one can hide from The Traveler.

Who is this man, his motives so set?
You owe him eternity, always in debt,
Death is small price for what you will get,
The bringer of ends is The Traveler.


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