'Midst the might of desert sands
Lived a Bedouin I knew,
Poor of Station he was indeed
But of heart he was true.

A tent was all that he possessed
And a camel for a male,
He lived alone by himself,
What came his way he ate.

The desert storms he endured
With a smile on his face
For the wise old man well knew
Most deserts win the race.

As does time, everywhere
Lay all things to rest,
Man, nature , and all else
Put through the mortal test.

Many a mile did he cover
On the camel's back,
Carrying with him his hopes alive
And dates in a sack.

He'd leave his tent at Sunrise
Then ride into town,
To sell his wares and earn his keep
A day well-spent, till Sundown.

The stars shone for him then
As they do for everyone,
Lighting up the silvery sands,
For the Sun's work was done.

By his tent was the tree
That kept him and his mate alive,
He picked and sold the dates from it
To let his trade thrive.

The Bedouin, camel and the tree
Made a happy threesome,
Till the day of the desert's wrath
And, lost was their freedom.

To move as they jolly well pleased
For their tent was torn to shreds,
And the fury of the tempest winds,
Had blown away the threads.

No way then for the old man
To build for himself a nest,
So bare the ferocity of the desert,
Living was a daily test.

The tree too was ripped apart
The livelihood forever gone,
Pangs of hunger was all they felt
From dusk to hungry dawn.

Weak of spirit and flesh both
The Bedouin and the camel,
Tied in knots, the mind distraught
With destiny to unravel.

Wisdom told them silently
Nothing happens for nothing,
Tragedies hide within themselves,
Good tidings, they often bring.

Desert  folks are 'nature' people
Live as they do beneath open skies,
Guides for them the shining stars
As they gaze up with expectant eyes.

The desert and destiny, alas
Had other plans for them,
Promises of heavenly bliss
Midst the turbulence and mayhem.

The angel came to take them away
To the sacred place on high,
To that which we call Heaven,
Somewhere in the sky.

And so were they well-rewarded
Shorn of greed and desire,
Free from the smouldering embers
The left overs of a raging fire.

Adios, my friends
May we all meet such rewarding ends.

(The author is a prolific poet who has over 30 poetry books to his credit. He can be reached at ashoksawhny06@gmail.com/ www.ashoksawhny.com)