A village near Araros,
Sings a tale of a nameless man,
Who dared travel the mysterious desert of Benzar and never returned to his home.

The man lost his heavenly way,
And wandered for days in the hot summer sun.
No shade to spare his days,
No water no food for his tongue.

Parched, he prayed and cried looking up at his God,
But no prayers of him were answered.
He did not see a single life ,he travelled with his own wild thoughts reverberating in his mind.

His wife would be waiting for him to return,
His daughter would have flung on his shoulder.
His friends would be searching for him,
His mother would also be praying and cursing his fate for this horror.

He shouted at the sky for days,
Atleast make it rain a bit,
But all that he got in return was the heat and flashes of fire beneath.

The sand coated his face and body,
Making it more dry and rough.
He moved his fragile legs in the hopes to see someone.

He knew death was slowly creeping through his doors,
That he would die without paying his debts he so wished to give.
He knew God wanted him to suffer for those mistakes he made.

And now what remains of him is a skeleton with its bony hands spreaded towards the horizon.
A tale to warn the young not to flutter into the dark side.
For that man was a thief who also took a life.

God made him pay for his sins in broad daylight,
His justice might be late but fear
Oh Human ! For the call of the oppressed reaches God faster than a ray of light.

___unedited__


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