ANOTHER DAY ON THE SAHARA

ANOTHER DAY ON THE SAHARA

It’s another day on the Sahara, where the sun is beastly hot.
And the sand dunes burn in this land of no return,
For the rich and the poor, the haves and have nots.

It’s another day in the jungle heat, that swallows up the soul.
That binds and gags the will to live and eats a body whole.
The mythic humid mass of air that blows across the plain,
A land so grand that lacks a fan and could use a drop of rain.

It’s another day on the Sahara, the desert of my heart.
My engine it just cranks away, but cannot seem to start.
Perhaps I’ve overheated it with grudges run amok.
Perhaps I’ve angered all the gods and used up all my luck.

Perhaps the weary pace of life has slowed me to a crawl,
Leaving me without a friend to answer my distress call.
It’s another day of longing for some nameless, faceless thing,
A thing akin to love or hope or a song still left to sing.

It’s another day on the Sahara, where dreams have all run dry,
Where mankind’s thirst has scorched the earth,
Yet the stoic heavens will not cry.

It’s another day in the desert, my feet are kicking up the dust.
Perhaps it’s time to mount my camel and go explore this wanderlust.
Another day on the Sahara, the sun is beastly hot.
And the sand dunes burn in this land of no return,
For the rich and the poor, the haves and have nots.

-Bruce Potts
Copyright 2009
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED