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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.







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