by Osama Ashraf
There once was a traveller, weary and sore
Half-dead, he remembered the long lost lore
Of the woman that lived in the desert he walked
He thought to himself “Dear God! All is lost!”
He stopped his tired footsteps in the sand
Trembled and dropped on the unforgiving land
The boiling red rocks marked his traumatic face
As his journey ended in complete disgrace
Unconscious and dreaming of a life, galore
With the woman in the desert of long lost lore
His unfortunate death didn’t come, not just yet
His dreary dead eyes weren’t yet ready to set
He struggled on his muscles and upon his knees
And forced his mighty stand against the breeze
The bright violet light he spied with his soul
In his raging heart it burned a harrowing hole
A shimmering glow in the distance beyond
Moved him to bawl in his crawl and carry on
Unconscious and dreaming of a life, galore
With the woman in the desert of long lost lore
The light got brighter with every inch, indeed
Crept faster than creepers on heaving weeds
With mouth open wide but eyes shut tight
This woman he dreamt of, he saw on his right
He quivered and quaked, baked in the dust
Boiling red grains covered his hair with rust
He paid no mind to the whore in the glow
He carried his flow and onward he goes
