The wind blows rough on my face
Wrinkles my skin and burns my eyes
The strong smell of the desert storm comes from far
I turn around for a pillar to hold, but I see none
Not big nor small; not even a slim stick to rest my arms
Nor a wall to lean against…only vast expanse of nothingness before my eyes
My body drags along, a burden of time
My heart seeks the cool breeze of the promised night
I fight with all my strength against the strong wind to hold myself, hold the fragile flower in my hand
The flower it is which keeps me going, night and day, summer and winter, through rocks and sand
The little burst of colours in my hand guides me on, to deeper and deeper depths of the mind
Assures me of a future bright, with its shades of reds and whites
Till I can go no further; for here I rest and close my eyes
My flower has bloomed while I was asleep; I wake up to its beautiful smile
A branch has grown, moving towards the soil
To bind me, bind thee in the depths of the ground
Where no wind is strong enough to blow us off. Again.