The day, the suns burn across the dunes,
The pianist awakens,
His skin a bit more dead,
Fingers gliding over the keys, the runes
To mystic ballads across barchans tread.
The desert castle, a million miles
West to nowhere,
East to an ocean end,
South of hell, north pathed to fear.
The night, the fortress flags
Are still flittering in the gales.
And the crows say time is not much.
But with minuets and songs
And a voice that wails sails,
This was an oasis Hell couldn't even touch.
K. Jared Hosein
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/death-the-ballad-of-the-desert-pianist/
