Sunday, September 26, 2010

A Dry Lack of Wit

A sky, blue yet still parched. Sand, more than ubiquitous. A man, carving a slow path between the two. A vulture, patient and nonchalant. Heat, oppressive and draining. The goal, out of reach. Hope, a mirage as real as the others. A groan, weak and fatalistic. Memories, far away and all that remain. Emotion, long lost in the battle with exhaustion. Night, cold and dry and stifling. A dream, welcome but oh so painful. A snake, sliding and gliding and the only witness. A cactus. A pillar. A tombstone. Last words, too choked to escape. Life, circular yet ever ending.

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