A barren field, which way to turn,
The paths all the same are worn,
The dusty earth, the pallid sky,
the heavy winds, a forlorn sigh.
The waters move the planet well,
Yet so very laden is the swell,
the rush, the current be so strong
Mountains are sand before too long.
What to do when all is gone,
Perhaps listen to the winds sad song,
Or the birds that carry the ages tune,
They comfort the spirits so alone.
Oh, Chagrin, the bitter cold wind,
The dust is painful in my eye,
Let the ages fall beneath me,
Let the waters run til dry.