Sentinel Poetry: Expression Warehouse

Waters Run Dry

Beneath heaven's own hanging drapes,
Here lies in firm hang,
One puzzle of no worth
Above in baking skies.

Still, we survived the incarceration
One touch of nature's brute,
There, in lowly plains of unequal misfortunes,
Of scorchy, prickly solar irritate,
Where beams of burning sensation,
With no minute remorse,
Pierce the dense of our thick'n' thins,
While we writhe in pain.

Right there
In our midst we find,
Between the steeps of the canyon;
pearl-bearing mollusks,
Where waters run at length,
till its end
One maze which stuns most
extraordinarily.

When waters run dry,
Broad channels appear a shadow of life,
Like friends grow to part,
A mystery is cued.

What drought often brings,
Tear pores, sore in red
Amidst bitter sobs and trickles,
Some more we shed for ages.

Now the gorge is barren,
A rapid has ceased to run
The land appears cursed since,
Too many are the eroded soils.

Well! if waters run dry
and throats go dry,
The earth becomes a fry
Of life's own imagination.

When waters run dry,
The earth wouldn't bear to cry,
till it tries the scare,
Until it's rare to find
The waters run dry.

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