Poems: The Long Road East
The life of a desert caravan trader is equal parts arduous and romantic, and this is one of many poems and apocrypha descibing the trek across the sand. The search for riches is lonely, and in every bar and brothel in Sogadar there is a man telling tall tales of strange and otherwordly occurences after a long time on the road. It cannot be said whether these are merely the fever dreams of men driven mad by the heat, or whether something really does lurk in the wastes beyond the palace walls.
The Long Road East
Heat melding thoughts and flesh,
Becoming one with the shimmering sands,
Far as we are from the promise of thirst,
Legends of luxury in ancient halls,
Pass as mirages before the eyes,
The Sun, turned punctured orange sinks,
The greed of men so close in hand,
Baked in bones by the side of the road,
Hands outstretched toward the open sky,
Their very lifeblood coined in gold,
Running like sand through the fingers of the hopeful,
As the hourglass of history turns again.