The night winds of the desert blow old and blindly – answering to no one. Live with them or die in them, the winds still pass you by. The howling mockery in the distance bespeaks a fool who surrounded himself with a sea of pain-filled needles as a reward for any wrong step. The walker’s burred eyes stream tears of sickening regret.
Too far he had gone, always too far.
There are no footpaths in the desert. No trails showing the way. No sign, no marks, no soul to guide you. Just a place of spiders, scorching sun and suicide. What business have the sane in such a spot? They were home, safe and sound and singing. No, the sane do not come here; only the abandoned, the fools and the lost.
Too far he had gone, always too far.
Breathing bred the tears. The madman had poisoned his own oasis. Banished forever; a hope forsaken; a heart closed. Bonds of love snapped as a spaceman’s cord to his ship, left to endlessly drift in space as he watches home earth diminish ever smaller. No hope now, he knew, too late to make amends. No word could be heard.
Too far he had gone, always too far.
In angry pride he’d burned it down; a mindless rage against his dreams. Afterwards, in unbearable shame, he ran to the desert – no other place would have him. Home now lay in hellish heat mired among hissing lizards on searing rocks. The one who scorned life was now scorned by life. But the ever-flowing tears came not from his desert demise. Shattered memories missing love lost despaired him to this world of deserted dreams.
Too far he had gone, always too far…
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