Thousands upon thousands wander the sand.
Lost and weary in the hot, forsaken land.
The burning sand stings the foot like glass,
And thirst becomes a burden for the wandering mass.

Soon, though, they come to relief,
And clear, cool water they greedily drink.
But within moments they can no longer think;
Poison, it seems, was their relief.

Now, mindless they wander the barren land,
Treading steadily upon the sand.
The sands glitter in the sun like glass.
To the edge of nowhere treks the mass.

Witnessing this was I,
Watching from high in the sky.
I saw all of this from up high,
Seen through the eagle’s eye.

© Erick Pratt