against the raptures of an urge
mine wit is often lost
and thro the savage desert winds
It's scissle mutiny - tossed
Still its dunning voice is heard
On distant breezes - fierce
Imploring me to reach again
The morals once rehearsed
Within the sweats of desert's lust
I oft can't tell its voice
Apart from other fiendish howls
Removing all mine choice...and
So I stampede thro the dunes
Vallate and towering shrines
In search of thirst once quenched
Whence windy whispers once stood mine

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