2011/01/08

Desolate - 2011/01/08

A man with no name stands amidst the wind
Breathing in the sand that tears his face
He picks up his shovel and begins to work
In the ever shifting dunes he has a place
Day in day out he aspires to craft a hole
After clearing last evenings newborn sand
Time has expired and it is time to retire
While he sleeps wind lends a helping hand

After the sun rises a nameless man awakes
For another day of work within a dead sea
Surprisingly he has emerged from a stupor
His commandants issued an official decree
Awake and confused for change had arrived
That ominous presence assaulting his life
His shovel was abandoned as it lacked use
No amount of digging can stop such strife

A nameless friend waits analyzing the sky
His shovel buried beneath a month of sand
It is purpose he looks for as his is gone
Yet he knows better than to ask this land
That evening a comet races past the stars
A dazzlement that is indicative of a sign
With that a new man begins a long journey
For destination unknown yet he feels fine

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