Desert air burns bleeding cracked lips; so slow,
Annoying pain, causing heat stroke quicker.
What’s in the future, dry dust, sand sifting?
Tiny grains grating in my mouth, wind blows.
Does this desert end? Sun baking skin whole?
Am I done penance, my soul much richer?
Water, oasis found; soul weeps bitter.
Are my thoughts real? Or am I dying slow?
Future ahead, sandstorms, I see swarming;
Into crystals of glass where artists make,
Such beautiful creations colours forming.
Glass in flowers; blown shapes delicate made.
Where presently, I’m in need of some shade.
Torment cease; dancing, at last, rain storms!
©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.