This sadness, I call it Dune

a mound of sand that forever blows into my life

looming, vast, over my head.

Its eyes, lazy and ancient

at times watch me with strange fascination

a forgotten masterpiece in a deserted gallery.

 

It calls, heedless of the hour

its scream a dull thud that drenches my heart.

I shrink, writhe, and wither

a forgotten lily

dead before its time.

 

Constantly, with lethargic movements

I sit within my sleep

eyes crusted with salt, lips a doleful frown.

The world outside feels like a receding shore

its tides of joy unable to reach me anymore.

 

And my heart calls to my mind

as night snakes its slow way to the light

"Surely, as clouds rain themselves out of existence,

this sadness, too, will fall, one drop at a time."