Desert dreams vanish in the vapor-pasted air,
screaming strains on the pavement, racked
with a muted mindset. Disquieting glare
reminds the world of broken ambition, tracked
into hiding where it sleeps alone, waiting
for the righteous rain to prevail again,
flooding into the heart of a lost soul, paving
the road to fulfillment once more, then
driving the spirit into a mystical existence,
so that visions no longer lose sight,
bearing meaning no matter the distance,
traveling further into the barren night.
Even dreams can tumble like weeds
before taking root and becoming seeds.