Sun tumbles down with its colossal weight. Unforgiving,
unrelenting it laughs. It laughs at me stumbling along
this dusty suffocating path. I long for rain. Rain
is all I desire. My sun-parched cracking body aches
and yearns for her moist kiss.
My weary eyes scan the heavens endlessly. Looking and praying
for relief from the terror of the sun. No trees around
to offer relief. I wander on. Vultures, with their beady eyes
circle over head, and wait. Will I survive this hellish day,
or will they reap my soul, slowly?
Nomad. Wretch. Outcast. I am condemned to this fate, imprisoned
by myself, my mind, and this burning ball of fire. Oh rain, cleanser
of broken souls? Why hast thou forsaken me? Abandoned,
in this arid land of death. I am slowly consumed, drained, sucked
dry of life. A chalice of death forced upon me.
My destiny demands this I guess. To endlessly roam the earth
never finding rain. The comforting, soothing, calming
shower. I will never feel clean, pure, or whole. Ha ha! But this
is what I know... Madness descends, and disturbs, but
never conquers. I like it here. This is home. Vagabond.