The Dross of the Desert


Brown, bronze, and copper sprawl on the horizon
The faded canvas rough and dry
The sky flares into a symphony of shimmering colors
Conducted by the two-faced sun

As my eyes adjust to the auspicious landscape
My eyelids sear in the heat
The air becomes a claustrophobic trap
That chains me in the sun’s fury

My throat erupts into scorching thirst
I yearn for an oasis
My legs run to seek the promise of shade
But the sun robs my energy

I collapse onto the blazing ground
With the drug of fatigue overwhelming me
The sun laughing viciously in the pale blue sky
Taunting at my weakness

The violets, crimsons, and oranges of the desert sky are hidden
The unornamented beauty is lost
To the dross of the desert
The wicked sun


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