The Derelict Traveller

Just thought I'd throw this out there. Constructive criticism welcome.

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The familiar road, through which the derelict traveller walks, sits shrouded in night. Homes stand emptied by the vessel of dreams. The wind whispers to those who would hear.

Conspiring clouds conceal from him the stars. As his foot falls, a brazen moon defies him to find the gems of the abyss. The lady of the wind coolly caresses his cheek as she whispers stories of roads elsewhere.

He does not know that his next footfall could meet the earth of a distant land. He does not know that every step he takes is another journey he did not start. And so his footfalls land one in front of the other, carrying him down the empty street.

Soon he will meet morning. The woman will speak to all men, and none will listen. The moon will retire, ever ready to reiterate his dare.