Poetic Narrative:

The one I have become, through neurons mapped and desert lands tracked,

With hope in step and experience backed.

A wishful hope to reach, before the dusty tracks from dark red lands rule over.

A wishful hope to overcome the fear, that they may inhibit the fulfilment of our thirsts.

A wishful hope that we make our quest, before the dry lands cause rest to my youngster’s test.

For countless trips of soulful guidance have altered,

By the unexpected changes, forged by hot winds and absent rains.

The sun beats down strong and now,

Not known for how long.

With excuses none,

I must move on.

To lead my herd,

Guided by the voices of ancestor’s heard.

©Mahdhav Sarna