Wasteland

Dust dry winds that leech and parch, Skeletal soldiers that endlessly march O'er barren sand and rocky crest, Examples of nature's cruel jest. Plants that bristle with vicious quills; A land that teems with ancient ills. Cursed and blighted by gods unknown; Loved by bandits and rogues alone. Loneliness that echoes the land's bleak need; A cancer that grows like an unholy seed. Twisted remnants from an age long past; Memories linger, but nothing lasts. Broken spires and crumbling sand; Fading ruins on every hand Of once proud cities gathering dust; Abandoned dreams now choked with rust. Shadowed lands now harsh and bleak; Drained of life, of decay they reek. Blistering heat to sear and scorch; A land benighted, the sun its torch. Mountains loom high on every hand; Timeless sentinels o'er the broken land. Yet in this desolate, deserted place, Life yet lingers, if only a trace. Lizards, snakes, and scorpions abound; Cactus blooms and birds give sound. Reminders to all that life will live, And survive on whatever nature will give. A wasteland it is, and yet it is more; For it harbors secrets of forgotten lore. Lessons of serenity, hope, and trust; Covered in blankets of alkaline dust.