The ripples, the breeze, When the wind past by,
With particles of sand brushing my cheeks,
The desert is silent to hear the wind sing hollow
Into my ears, into my soul, taking something away.

Handful of sand, gripping to let it trickle away,
Through the fingers that dream to hold,
What cannot be held, I stand here,
With the feeling of having lost something.

I look past dunes and dunes seem to feel the wind,
The same wind that sings hollow, reminding me,
There is something in this heat that impairs the vision.
The humidity choking you, leaving you gasping for air,
With the feeling of having lost something.

Sitting on the seat of hot sand,
Burning the skin, killing all forms of sense.
The heat tans me to earthen colors,
None of which seem to matter to me,
As I listen to that hollow wind,
As it takes something away from me.

I feel the scar on my arm, sleek deep
Above all, permanent, what metal does
Cutting through flesh and blood is sacrifice.
The wind has moved on to the horizon
And I sigh as I wipe away the sweat beads.

Only to suddenly get lost in thought and realize,
The gust of wind whistling beyond me
Sends me warning of what is yet to come.
I turn back and see the sandy disaster heading my way.
It is not today, not tomorrow, I had never lost anything,
And will not lose anything to anyone anymore.
Never lost in the start and will not lose at the finish.