Desert

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    Desert

    Standing upon a lonely desert hill
    lost somewhere in the imagination of time.
    I gaze upon my desolate surroundings,
    the only living thing for miles.
    I turn in a full circle,
    seeing nothing but sand
    stretching as far as the eye can see.
    The sun is blistering hot,
    creating waves on the sand,
    making it seem like an ocean instead
    of a desert.
    Not even a bird flies over this barren
    wasteland.
    Not even a breeze desturbs the rolling
    dunes.
    I look up at the too blue sky,
    blinded by the over vibrant colors
    that mark this strange wasteland
    of the subconsious.
    I close my eyes and breath in
    the sultry heat.
    The utter loneliness of this place
    brings a single tear to my face,
    long have I fought against the
    loneliness within myself.
    And now I find I can no longer
    hold back the ache,
    and a single tear trails down my cheek
    and falls to the barren land beneath my feet.
    From no where, a gentle breeze caress's
    my body.
    As more tears fall to the ground,
    the breeze strengthens, warm and moist.
    Life is in that wind.
    Storm clouds,
    dark and grey,
    heavy with rain roll in.
    Lightening flashes across a
    suddenly ominous sky,
    the low rumbling of thunder is heard
    as it rolls across the desert of my mind.
    The wind picks up and a drop of rain touches my face.
    I look out in the distance in awe,
    coming right for me is a solid wall of
    rain soaking the barren desert.
    It sweeps past me, drenching me in seconds
    I turn and watch it go.
    Everything is soaked,
    I turn to look behind me
    and gasp in wonder.
    For behind that raging storm,
    as the clouds break and the sunlight once
    again touches the barren wasteland.
    I see that it is barren no longer.
    For behind me,
    and now all around me,
    beneath my feet and over my head.
    Is life.
    Green and lush,
    grass and trees, plants of every size
    shape and color.
    Animals of every species.
    A barren mind now brimming with life.
    I hear the animals talk to each other
    over my head birds soar.
    Once again tears spring to my eyes
    and fall unchecked upon my cheeks.
    No longer do I feel that acheing loneliness,
    no longer do I cry out and nothing is there to
    hear me.
    All around me is the wonder of life,
    in this barren desert now turned to
    thriving rainforest.
    The dam is burst, I can no longer hold
    back the flood,
    and I let it wash thru me,
    cleansing me of all before it,
    leaving me fresh and new.
    I feel no fear, no anger, no hate in
    this place.
    Only acceptence, at long last
    acceptence.
    Not from anyone, but from me.
    Acceptance of self.
    And in this place,
    in this jungle I have created with my own
    tears.
    I meet myself,
    I see me as I am.
    And I like what I see.
    So I wander the pathways thru this
    tangled jungle and think my thoughts
    and live my life, at peace at last,
    with who I am becoming.
    I find a spot next to a pool
    with a beautiful waterfall
    and let my mind wander as it will.
    And within the current of that waterfall,
    I see the images of memories long stored,
    faces I have seen, places I have been,
    people I have known. All right there
    in that falling rush of water.
    And I finally realize,
    that time and memory are like water,
    every changing yet ever the same,
    the only thing that changes, is me.
    The water fall shows me all my joys,
    all my sorrows,
    all my victories,
    and all my failures.
    It shows me my loves,
    and my hate.
    It shows me all the choices
    good and bad I have
    ever made.
    This waterfall is me,
    the ever changing course of
    who I am becoming,
    within it is all that makes
    me who I am,
    and deep within that pool,
    still beyond my sight, but there waiting
    deep below the surface.
    Is the person I will one day become,
    and for the first time in my life,
    the idea of who that might be,
    does not frighten me,
    as much as it excites me.
    I smile again at the
    acceptance I feel
    and lay back,
    content to let time do it's work.
    Let whatever may come
    come.
    I am ready.

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    Poetry comes nearer to vital truth than history.

    Plato (BC 427-BC 347) Greek philosopher.

    DruidWolf’s Poems (11)

    Title Comments
    Title Comments
    Wind 5
    Night of the Wolf 2
    Careless Words 2
    Young Man I Never Knew 3
    The Storm 0
    Mysterious Smile 0
    Untitled 0
    Eyes of a Stranger 2
    Canyon 0
    My Love 0
    Desert 0