Among the dunes of endless gold,
Where secrets of the ancients lie,
The desert speaks in tongues untold,
Beneath the vast and open sky.

The wind, a silent, gentle guide,
Through valleys where the shadows play,
In every grain, a tale resides,
Of sunlit realms and twilight gray.

Cacti stand as sentinels,
In lands where time itself stands still,
Their thorns, a fortress of farewells,
To dreams that wander at their will.

The night descends with starlit grace,
A canvas for the moon’s embrace,
In the desert’s silent, sacred space,
We find our place, a fleeting trace.