Destinations. (New) - Poem by Alison Rosalie
set out thru empty desert
in the hardly hope that
those sands stretching
ever onward would end
at the edge of the ocean -
hardly slept in that sea
of scorpions and skeletons.
hardly cried; of course, i tried
but the sun would always
drink of my eyes, bone-dry
from swirling sandstorms
and the empty, shiv'ring sky
and all i could do was crawl -
straining to refrain from praying
to the withered deity of my mind.
oh how many a mirage would fool me,
each horizion shimm'ring like the ocean's crystal skin.
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