Desert Land

The darkness here looks like a bright white desert sky. And, it feels like the hot sun burning down my back. It smells like the dirt and the dust of a drought that’s engulfing more than just this land. A drought of our soul, glimmering just out of reach like a mirage.

The end is here. You can sense it.

But what wall holds it at bay is indiscernible. A high prison razor wire fence holding back the reality of the things we ought to face. We complain that we aren’t being let out, set free, let loose. And yet, if only we’d look down, maybe we’d realise that we held the keys to the gate all along.

A gate we built in a wall we once understood. Only now, we’ve forgotten the way back.

The ways of old, the ways of nature, the ways of reality are lost on us.
We barely even breathe the air, these days. In our little cages and our expansive prisons and our ongoing cordoned off yards, we run and run and run. But we’re only running round ourselves.

Perhaps, we are running from death.
But we can’t see that far ahead anymore. That vision is lost.
We’ve gone completely blind.

Nothing can save us from ourselves.
We do not want salvation.
We only want respite from our own cries.

But the cars and the radios and the televisions and the advertisements will not be silenced.
Everyone has to make a living.
We have no hope of survival.

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