Silently the clouds go by taking their rain elsewhere
we are in an arid land that time forgot under
the hammering sun; we sleep by day
in our tents and walk by the light
of the moon each night
our camels know
the way
a border
drawn by men
from other places
far away who share
nothing of our heritage
if I could wind the clock
forward or back, it makes
no difference, this is not my
world and not my way and I know
not who brought me here whom I could
complain to, perhaps I will awake in morning
light and discover it has all been but a bad dream
and now a chance to begin again like flowers in spring

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