Herein we find ourselves,
Upon a broken ridge of baked clay.
What wastes lie behind our worn soles,
Each rock and dried root has been memorized.
But now between two sloping mountainsides,
Is a slice of what could only be paradise.
Running water drips to fill a mind with madness,
And from this rushing water springs life.
Glorious abundance is within reach,
Our cracked and sunburned hands lead us on.
All about us growing things usher us into cool recesses,
Bidding our hearts to slow and backs to relax.
Paradise is here hidden within a maelstrom,
And we are the only ones who know.
Blooms dip to greet our sleepy eyes,
As soft leaves unfurl to cradle weary minds.
For a time we will spend here,
Waiting out a firestorm that ravages all.
Let us sleep now and rest,
That we may find more wanderers on the morn.