The Desert of Dreams

As I lay down, head resting upon the ground, I cannot help but feel the air around me. The smells that woft on the midnight breeze, the aroma of the flowers in the fields, of the fires of many, who dare to dream. I am a dreamer. As I walk through this desert, I can feel the cold touch of the night air, the stars and the moon light my way to better days. I can hear the voices of those who without thought or recollection tell tales of better days. The dreams of the past have become lost, stranded on a sea of despair. I see the campfires, the sparks fly into the air, caught by the currents, and are carried away. I dream of better times, of a love I can share, of an adventure to unkown lands, of exploring the dreams of those who have been lost. In this desert, I can see the vast waterfalls, great canyons of golden rock, I can see a jungle of rain, a sea of trees washing upon great stones given forth from the earth. The dreams of these people, my kin, are not lost on me. I see their dreams, because they are also mine. I see two lovers in an eternal embrace, lost in eachothers eyes. I Weep. The beauty of the dreams of these people makes my heart ache, for even in this cold, unrelenting desert, there are those who still dare to dream.

"When the mind screams, it awakens the soul, it cleanses the spirit, it stirs the emotions in ways only the foolish or the beautiful could dream, could see unfolding right before their eyes, the great spectrum of color and sound that drenches the senses and eases the inner being into a lucid dream. Now if our bodies would stop and listen, now that would be the greatest gift of all..."

Ending

Undaunted by the falling sky, the rising sun, the wanderer drifts aimlessly through the barren desert wastes, alone, beaten, and shamed. In spite of all his strength, he only found failure, and defeat, at the hands of those whom he loved and trusted most in this world. Sweat sleeks its way down his brow, the sun hot upon his barren skin, the taste of water he has not known for much time. He has lost his way in this lonely forgotten land, the paths have led him and gone astray in a land gone asunder. "How did it come to this?" He asks himself. "Must I bear this burden alone...?" He dreams of better days, of running along green lawns, dancing in the summer nights under the moon, under the stars, amongst the fireflies while friends and lovers gathered round campfires weaving tall tales, drinking in the ale of life and sharing in their joy and happiness. O How those joyous days of peace were great, but now they have gone, squandered by the wanderer, taken for granted as he now pines for those days again. Will he ever find peace, this lowly wayward wanderer? He dreams of the day when he can once again partake of the drink of life, of the great dance and song, of the joys of being alive and free. He dreams of cobblestone streets, dimly lit by the sun, trees lined on the edges standing tall and proud, children running through the streets without a care in the world, an ode to the days of yore long spent upon the dawn of a new and reckless age of corrupt abandon and contempt. He weeps at this thought. "How did it come to this...?" He thinks in his mind. His thoughts race with the nostalgia of years past and long gone, but never forgotten, for they are always on his mind, as waves upon a depthless and endless sea, rising and falling and churning, never ceasing to make their presence known. He collapses to the cold unforgiving ground, sand drifts by in the wafting breeze about him, the moon bright upon the blackened night sky, tears of silver stream from his face as the light from his eyes slowly begin to fade into oblivion...How did it come to this...?