“There’s no sense in going further —
it’s the edge of cultivation,”
So they said, and I believed it —
broke my land and sowed my crop —
Built my barns and strung my fences
in the little border station
Tucked away below the foothills
where the trails run out and stop.

Till a voice, as bad as Conscience,
rang interminable changes
In one everlasting Whisper
day and night repeated — so:
“Something hidden. Go and find it.
Go and look behind the Ranges —
Something lost behind the Ranges.
Lost and waiting for you.
Go!”
Rudyard Kipling
Sometimes I don’t even know what I am looking for!