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Sands of Solitude
#WritcoPoemPrompt22
He drops on the sandy folds,
Of a deathly bed,
A lost traveler of a mighty desert,
Parched throat, cracked skin,
He is his own Messiah,
Or another vagabond victim.
Lost amidst the dunes' dance,
Underneath a merciless sun's stance,
He whispers prayers to the wind,
Hoping salvation it may send.
But the desert hears no plea,
Only echoes of his agony,
In solitude, he finds his creed,
His faith, his only steed.
With each step, a silent hymn,
To the heavens, so dim,
A nomad in a wasteland vast,
His destiny entwined with the past.
Yet in the vast expanse of sand,
He finds a peace so grand,
For in his solitude, he is free,
A sovereign of his destiny.
So he walks, unshackled and bold,
In the desert's grip, yet unconsoled,
For he is his own savior,
In this land of eternal labor
© AA COLLECTIONS
He drops on the sandy folds,
Of a deathly bed,
A lost traveler of a mighty desert,
Parched throat, cracked skin,
He is his own Messiah,
Or another vagabond victim.
Lost amidst the dunes' dance,
Underneath a merciless sun's stance,
He whispers prayers to the wind,
Hoping salvation it may send.
But the desert hears no plea,
Only echoes of his agony,
In solitude, he finds his creed,
His faith, his only steed.
With each step, a silent hymn,
To the heavens, so dim,
A nomad in a wasteland vast,
His destiny entwined with the past.
Yet in the vast expanse of sand,
He finds a peace so grand,
For in his solitude, he is free,
A sovereign of his destiny.
So he walks, unshackled and bold,
In the desert's grip, yet unconsoled,
For he is his own savior,
In this land of eternal labor
© AA COLLECTIONS
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