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A wandering nomad

Burned by desert suns

Living without refuge

Seeking lost horizons


Faded maps to guide him

From old and distant lands

With landmarks made of

The loose and shifting sands


Sandstorms without shelter

That blind and burn his eyes

Standing up to each gale

Else he’s buried and dies


Oasis or mirage

Hope mounting in his mind

Though he staggers to it

A faded dream his find


Winds erasing the past

Still shaping days to be

No trace of who he was

Nor what he is to be


Each of us a moment

And once we pass this way

The drifting sands of time

Erase our every day

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