Sleeping in the Desert
There is a road, miles of dust.
Unfertile, sandy plains
the clear blue and aqua that paint the sky;
its clouds extend,
is a corpse, clothed in a coat,
haggard and malnourished,
it sleeps like a fossil.
This waste is left with a mind deserted,
barren and rotting
beside the vultures that dance with the crows.
The beard is left over,
like the bushes, it continues to grow thick
through the twilight.