The fiery sands
The beautiful dunes
The dying hands
The endless desert nights
The chilling air
The crawling scorpions
All those lost prayers
The travelers, the survivors
What else to give
Taking a step a time
The breaths left to live
But I see the water
I see the green
They tell me it is a mirage
There is nothing to be seen
But, lo, clouds gather
And raise a storm
Cool winds blow
A rain is born
Is it my eyes
Or is it the mind
A mirage of the heart
Or a memory blind..
But I feel the drops
My spirits rise
No vultures I see
Circling the skies
Parched lips mumble
A prayer well said
The skies changes hues
From black to red
Real it is
Please tell me
Love it is
For us to see...
(Inspiring thought:
Why.. Why are things like they are.. Why is there no end to human greed and selfishness? Or is it just a different manifestation of the power struggle inherently embedded in our animal genes? To control the most and to be responsible the least? Is it all that we aspire for in one way or other? Or is there more to life?
This life is like a desert: beautiful but deadly (well) and dry. Extreme in its temperament, liberal with its mirages, miserly with it oases. Many are its dangers and still more are its charms. And surprising is the life it really holds under the cover of barrenness. Unparalleled is its cruelty, unforgiving are its conditions.
)
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