You can hear the wind whistle

through the rusty rock maze

dropping away vertically

a thousand meters downward

into a river which stretches onward

through shifting sands of red desert

 

You can almost see the sun

and its halo of fire

behind clouds of grey storm

that wrap and blanket the sky

looming over earth with shadows

 

Rolling over the snow caps

of distant mountains

cloaked in fog

 

Connected by the plains

round knuckles of grass

brimming with dew

 

You are the brave soul

who walks this silent land

stepping forward

through rain falling from dusk