Tuesday, October 20, 2015

A Desert Poem

The Desert Imagine,
 if you will, my friend, A scene - or at least try It may entertain you, So please spare me some time: A desert - it stands silent, A witness to its cold; Within it many travelers, Each a faceless weary soul. The terrain is fraught with danger, For the night has no remorse; And in this dark assassin, The travelers plot a course. Some seem rather timid, And unsure of their steps; Clinging to each other, They wander in the depths. Some shout independence, And go the course alone; But in the biting sandstorms, Their eyes plead for a home. Others still - they rally, For a well-known path; Little do they realize, It's a path that leads to death. This setting seems morbid, And anything but right; But imagine if you will, These cold, unforgiving nights. This desert has no daytime, Just a night as cold as ice; The desert drains these travelers- You can see it in their eyes. But, back to our story For the dream is not done yet; There are many souls to see, Who shiver through their sweat. The moon it casts its silent eye, Unblinking o'er it all; Somehow a witness to everything, Yet seeing nothing at all. Under it lie travelers, As far as the eye can see; From east to west, north to south, They press on silently. Some of them seem haunted, And starving half to death; While others still walk terrified- At each and every breath. Yet one or two seem confident, And - even stranger still - They trek on unaffected, By the desert's countless ills.

                                           A Desert Oasis

The sand is cast into their face, The winds - chill them down deep; Yet even in the midst of it, They somehow hold their keep. In their eyes burns a fire, That no desert wind can chill; Inside them lies a secret, That moves them as it will. They try to pass this fire, To all those that they meet; In their trek across the desert, Which they strive on to complete. Though many there will see the flames, Few will feel its glow; They'll push the travelers away, For reasons they'll not know. Some cannot accept the help, For their pride runs too deep; Others claim they've found their flame, In candles, tired and weak. Others can't accept the warmth- That would warm them from within; They want a physical fire- Though it would perish in the wind. Whatever their reasons be, Some travelers reject the gift; How then can they marvel, When they're finally let adrift? Yet this band of travelers, With their ceaseless flame; Press on one by one, unique, Yet somehow all the same. Many enter that desert, Many wander among its sands; But that band of inner torchbearers, Are the ones who understand. They are given the exit, And assured of their escape; They are provided such knowledge, From the source of their strange flame. Now let us leave this desert, For tonight we've seen our fill; The travelers still wandering- Through that lonely desert still. Friend, you many wonder, What the point of this could be... Such a strange, long story- With no purpose plain to see. Well then, let me tell you- Among those travelers I told- Lie you and I and everyone The world has ever known. You may not believe it, But you must admit it's right; That you too have felt the desert- The sand and winds of night. Now it's not much longer, Till I send you on your way- It's a long hard journey, And I'd hate to make you stay. Imagine if you will, my friend, We're in that desert, cold- The night stretched all around us- And it chills the very soul. All we know is searching, Trying to find an escape- And unless we find it... The desert claims our fate. I don't know about you, But I think I know the way- You're welcome to walk with me, Follow - If you may. If you accept my offer, friend, You may walk by our side; But warm yourself, forever, first- Take this fire we hold - inside.

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