Heat waves sweep patterns in the cold, desert sand.
The rolling grains buck and twist
As they are scooped up into the wind’s gentle embrace.
The Traveler staggers forward and
Stumbles with the grace of a dancer,
As his shaking body is buffeted by the sand’s violent kiss.

The Sandstorm howls mournfully across his still, quiet form.
His eyes are sewn open by sand and tears,
His blindness now sealed by the covetous Sahara.
Eyes once soft as steel, now shine dull with agony.
His world, his darkness,
The sand has courteously killed his sight.
Both in body and mind, the desert changes.

The winds have long since passed.
The dunes have shifted,
The coarse sands drift back to bed.
The Traveler dances on to the burial ground,
And the smile of Hades stirs his soul into oblivion.
Soft flames lick fields of pleasure as his journey ends.
The voyage home, he pours the sand from his shoes.