Endless, timeless, barren, desolate desert,
Void of dewdrops precious minute blessings:
Our world, or His? It matters not.
As thirst's dry draughts tempt strangest thoughts
To wither; wishful, meager unseen visions.
Promises of tomorrow's rain smolder in sundrenched air,
Wisped away until they are and care no more.
So cruel crossing that bleak demon of a land,
Falling, Crawling, sifting momentary sands
Through hateful outstretched, tight clenched, hand;
One heavier foot tromping, mercilessly following another
Into that hopeless, helpless emptiness.
Now we become bleached, baked carcasses
Weak, weather-worn to leather.
Can there be pain where there is no feeling?
Yet hearts still beat each bead of salty sweet sweat,
Regret no solitary tear left to shed.
Together tired, trudging toward illusively
Faint, fragrant horizons of faux fantasy mirages.
Is there sanity in seeking, in searching wanton, wild wilderness
Until all hope's lost? Wandering aimlessly,
Stumbling upon one living, eluding treasure.
One pure pleasure amidst the fatal doom,
A Mojave painted cactus, bright with bloom.
Some slight strength surges, as a happier hope emerges,
Drawn Deep into parched earth, roots shoot
Down to drown in life's clean, clear blood.
Hastily hand in sand scrawls each awkward word:
"I go ahead to seek an oasis."
-P.S. Colley
Rev. Nov. 2024
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