The Oasis
The scorching soil seemed seamless
For the drooping-headed ones
Tongues tell the tales
The thirsty throats fail to utter:
Spotted, sored, nightmarish
Gazing at the slowly sliding soil
Stars of the faces are dimmed,
Lighting no more the darkening dreams
Feeding no more the wearying wings
Yet the oasis lies near
Its beckoning shimmer heave
Behind the mist of frustration
Its whispering waves die
At the gate to the fallen flags
That hang from the drooping heads
If only…
The stars could shine
The flags could rise,
But the oasis never quietens
As long as the heart beats,
The oasis never quietens
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