Yared Huluf 2-2-22
When everything has gone for good
The he and beast
We’re the only ones left
On a land considered a waste;
Seared and scorched,
No one would want to rest,
Let alone settle,
In this forsaken barren,
Stinging nettles!
Umpteen he paused to think,
Casting at his gnomon,
On how many times he crisscrossed
The Barren plane,
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But for the life of him,
Open or shut the encephalon scrim
But he could not remember
No matter hard he knocked his brain
Or let it go dream.
As a resident by design or accident,
The only thing he sees and hears;
Wind gathering speed,
Turning turbulent tourbillion,
A Haboob to breed,
Deprecating the eyes blind,
Siriasis began to grind,
And where he stood
Quicksand running deep into the ground
Entombed alive appearing abound!
His endurance, nonetheless,
only for two simple things on his mind to address.
It is not a willful desire
To be a rocket scientist,
Nor any other sort of a mischief
But searching for green leaves,
The beast’s hunger to forgive,
And water the throat of both to relieve.
A constant grief
He had to live with,
Even if he wished,
couldn’t ignore he believed.
Time flies,
One day he came across an orifice,
Where a shinning liquid profuse,
He could not believe his eyes
Bent down on his knees
Brought his face close to the surface,
And without thinking twice,
He and the camel imbibed the fluid
Out of its natural vase.
Unlike no other times
Both felt not only slaked
But energized to run round,
Kicked the fetlock and flak
And to the air off they took.
The span of the desert,
Where the sun never seemed to set,
Became not only reachable,
But they went far and beyond.
A miracle did happen
God was real and born:
His prophet chosen and sworn!
Dirty Liquid turned Gold!
A miracle;
A parable propined by an Oracle,
A forlorn Bedouin with glazed eyes,
Dormant mind,
Unable to deal
With a complex puzzle
Wandering across the desert span
Searching for elusive water
and green leaves to guzzle.
Began to develop a wingspan
Longer than that of a dragon, gargantuan.
Surprise, surprise, my oh my!
He then declared that he is the king of the sky;
No gallinaceous or birds of prey,
Without his permission could fly.
He made it clear for foe and allies
That the rule is here to comply;
For he has the means to descry and spy,
Thanks to the fuel the desert holes supply.
An oppressed Eagle
Feeling uncomfortable
For the lost air space
Until then considered his own
Came up with a scheme
A clodpoll Bedouin couldn’t unravel.
It perched on a pole of electric cable
And turned itself as an engine fuel,
rechargeable.
Then the Eagle began to soar fly,
Higher than the Bedouin on a back of a camel splayed,
Could possibly try.
Unable to deal with the sky devil
In midair he nearly died,
Frustrated and exhausted,
The camel plummeted,
And came down to the ground fragmented: kaput!
The Eagle has indeed become
An electrical vehicle,
A mephitis, miasmatic flatulent camel couldn’t tackle:
Another miracle of an Oracle;
Should I say did happen again,
This time, Quiet, Clean and Green,
That blazons the end of the noise of the mean, Bedouin!