Empty
devoid of humanity,
the desert's got a wish;
the desert's got a secret
he doesn't need our teeth
when the piranhas are nicer than us;
when the megalodon is more gentle than us
there's a gray water-less fog only he can see
while the others are known for their sunlight
but for him, there's something in the air
that causes ultraviolet extinction
and now there's only his mental creation of reality
mirages and not, with no distinction
the sand is violet, with a blood red moat
the spines of the cacti build his back--
their points dulled down from lack of use
he makes the world, but the visitors that come
only skim the edges
to do nothing but flash their lights--
to capture his thin top layer
there's something deeper
all life evolved from the ocean
and he was separated from Pangaea
he saw it with his own eyes
everything
Copyright © Ashlea Senft | Year Posted 2017
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