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| November 4, 2008: Black Tuesday -- America in Decline. See our Home Page | ||||
A DESERT PLACE
By Gary W Cavendish
Alone in the midst of a desert place
In search of a shadow to hide my face.
The dust swirled around in the cauldron brew
And sun boiled down from the angry blue.
Black to the depths of my sin-sick soul
Perched on the edges of self control.
High in the haze, swirling over me
The vultures of death await my fall with glee.
And then he was there, like a dawning day;
His smile drove the thirst in my soul away.
I wondered at the sound of a flowing stream;
It seemed that desert had passed into dreams.