Some wandered forty years
A tribe of nomads seeking, something unknown.

Wanting desperately the milk and honey
And finding the desert of dried bones.

Hot the sun it burned me
In the summers continuous

Sweltering thirst in this parched land
Thickened tongues will lap

The freshness of the cool waters
And napping in cool grass

Longing greatly for comforts
Seeking what I had not.

Then dreaming came a messenger
Speaking of the land in my heart

And wanting the land I longed for
Lived in the caves from the start.

And as simply as longing for water
Could just prey the designs as smart.

Then no longer wander the desert
But my shoes will follow my part.

Amazed, stand I, looking down
Seeing the sparkly red shoes

And The Land
flowing with Milk and Honey
Is here
Was there
Always.
Right at the end of my toes.