Sorrows in the Desert

An epic of great report. The story of a man's toils in the desert.

Sorrows in the Desert

The sun was hot
It beat from the sky
I had no water for days

And when it came
It faded off and away
And the dunes did laugh

The mountains, mountains
Were calling to me
And urging me to continue

At night I heard their call
And cried for the trees
I had known in my youth

The trees that had protected
My friends from certain doom
They had trusted the men

And payed the price for it
They burned to the ground
To protect my friends

The village was saved
From doom by fire
But I had to leave

I left to find a place
Where I could bring the tribe
And live in peace for a time

But I came here to this
This wasteland of heat
To dry up and die

No! I will not die!
I get up to toil on
In the never ending heat

I now sit at the end
Of my toil and trial
In a forest of green

I have my friends
And the trees
In the mountains that call

They call to those lost
And in a worse state
And welcome them home
When they come to stay