The Herd’s Silent Path: Following Tracks of Those Who Led Before

The Old West didn’t reward hesitation—it honored those who acted with purpose.

Across the plains where wild winds blow,

The dust of ages whispers low.

With leather reins held firm and tight,

He follows paths that fade from sight.

Beneath the sun, the shadows stretch,

Each hoofprint marked, a tale to fetch.

The distant mountains call his name,

In silent reverence, those who came.

The stars align in twilight’s grace,

As echoes linger, time can’t erase.

With every stride, he feels the kin,

Those who led forth, where dreams begin.

Through valleys wide and nights so still,

A bond unbroken, forged by will.

He rides the herd, a steadfast guide,

In humble honor, their paths abide.