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The Evergreen Desert
The Evergreen Desert

© Shubham Pandey


2 Minutes   13.4K    4

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You are not the only one, Traveler,

To have walked on these burning lands.

Hidden from your eyes, in here are buried

A million bones in the flowing sands.


I showed my love to you, Traveler,

Showed that the Desert can love, too.

Tried to make heaven for you in hell's heart

While lands distant burned with the loo.


My few riches I scattered your way, Traveler,

The plenty you saw was my scarce wealth.

The flowers spread on your way were all I had,

I took water from the thorns for your health.


The river by your path is the travelers' myth,

To come where dying souls work in vain,

Yet, for you I have made the dyings' last wish come true,

The Desert River, which none found by pain.


Yes, I accept the River is a myth,

But for you I wetted the sands.

My oasis I killed for the flowing dream, 

No worldly wealth as treasured in these lands.


But after all this you would leave me, 

To wander in the valleys and forests blessed,

Go, if you must then, Traveler, 

To love me back never will you be pressed.


But this, your hate, I shall not bear,

If, after all my efforts profuse,

You leave my realm for the paradises

With no thanks on your lips, but abuse.


You would go to the valleys and forests,

Who fling their plenty without thought.

With so many souls craving for them, 

They care in particular for nought.


For those heavenly havens, then,

You would leave my vistas bare,

Leave, if you must, then, Traveler,

But don't spurn me, if you dare.


For the Desert River is a myth, after all, 

My riches by none have been found, 

In the Desert you've walked with such bliss,

A million died without a sound.


The forests live with the rain's grace,

The valleys into mountain shadows immerse,

But my endless sorrow is my strength, Traveler, 

I grow mightier by the sun's curse.


You see not the reality I've hidden, 

You know not of the graves in the sand mounds,

The forests and valleys just start and end,

The extent of the Desert knows no bounds.


Your face turned in my direction, then,

Filled with scorn and hate I must not see,

The Desert River is a myth, I warn you,

Don't provoke the Desert, Traveler, don't provoke me.


Desert; Personification; Ingratitude; Sombre

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