The Fiery Desert Blaze

The boiling sand scorches beneath me,

The sun descends above me, burning my body.

The wind glides through the land,

I am unable to stand and cannot feel my hands.

I believe that I will decay and perish here,

But I pray that I stay alive.

The cactus pricks in my hands, but it doesn't even hurt,

Perhaps under all this sand, there is some cold fresh dirt.

The sand is coarse and soft at times,

It scrapes against my skin but moves elegantly as it follows me.

The sand is arid and tough,

The dryness makes me appear gruff.