Myraid colors,
Looming large on some distant horizon..
A voice beckons,
...Admist this dreary silence..
I turn,
Am parched with thirst...
You beckon,
Ignis fatuus..a promise to quench my soul.
Feet blistered,
A Soul dry...
I seek the,
As I tudge upwards... an unsteady crawl..
Oh! my will-o'-the-wisp,
Art thou real..
I seek thee..
An endless wait,
Will you ever be..
I pray,
You come..
All my dreams,
Conjure up thine form...
Earnestly I beseech,
That you be true...
And I be destined,
To a mirage... called YOU.
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