The Never-Dying Oasis

Cold, it was. Spine-chilling cold, it was.

Stumbling across the desolate wilderness, trembling, shuddering, and quavering, was I.

The sands were unnumbered, uncounted, as they were in the Chaotic Creation.

Never hast these unseeable stones butchered me up.

My lips scarred, my scarlet, vermillion blood waterless.

They dost not flow anymore; they art not the Life-Bequeathing elixir they used to be.

Once. In the oblivious past.

Mine eyes art perched. “ What? Thine eyes art perched?” thou mayest ask me.

Surely, aye, I tell thee now that mine eyes,

my Gates To The Life, art drained.

I cannot move them. I bleed in my eyes. But the bleed, it doth not bleed.

Blood; it seeps not.

My throat, in all of the truthfulness, is slit.

Choked, it is. To breathe, stifling it is.

The air that once indolently wandered over Gaia is no longer slothful.

I, in my agony, swear it to thee, that the breeze, now, is a tempest.

Where are the gods now? Alas!

Hast they hidden behind their lustrous, sight-blinding Amethyst thrones?

Alas! Or, I, who is in screeching and searing pain, forsook them?

If thine ears are! If thine eyes are! Gaze down upon me, look at me.

Am I any different from a raven lost in a flock of heinous vultures?

In ruins, my flesh and bone are.

A twig, my body is.

It is of form, it is of contoured shape;

Yet, so brittle, fragile and frail.

A dime would it have cost,

A seek I could, by all means, have sought.

A sordid pride my pate carried,

Guilt is all it now doth carry!

My waterskin, I slung over my head.

In a meaningless journey forward ahead.

I walked down my unending burdensome walk,

Into the deep night that never would’ve dawned!

Nonetheless, seemingly did I see it.

A distant, unreachable tree was it.

Still, now I carry my dead soul, as laden as it is,

Toward the never-dying Oasis.

- Sanjay