Far across the desert
Over the dusty cracking earth,
There is a man of legend
Who lives a life of dearth.
Inside his soul is hollow,
Devoid of love or light.
His heart is pruned and withered
And his blood runs black as night.
His name I cannot speak it,
His look I can’t describe.
But you’ll know him by the piercing
Daggers in his eyes.
No man or maid dare wander
Into the hovel of his room.
Inside he keeps such secrets
That no one should consume.
I hear he lived a wondrous life
Had a wife and two fine kids.
But fatal fate had turned one day
And broke his love to bits.
He turned his back to the sun
And wandered off the edge,
For years no one has seen him
But I just can’t forget.
For I know him in the silent
And wounded on this road.
I’ve seen him in the eyes of those
Who’ve lost all self control.
I’ve felt him move inside me
And whisper to me lies.
He runs in tear-like rivers
That pour forth from his disguise.
So if you come to know him
Don’t look into his eyes,
Don’t sit down at his table
Or in his water you’ll baptise.
He’ll turn your soul to desert
An arid desolate land.
And you’ll too wear the scars
Of this broken bloodily man.
So while I’ve got a voice to speak,
While there is hope within my heart.
I choose to spark a candle
That holds back his deadly dark.
We all must learn to live here
Side by side with every man
And accept that there’s a balance
In time’s silver shifting sands.
Far across the desert
The wind it howls and moans.
But devil’s cannot speak the names
Of things they can’t control.
Phillip Mellor 2015
phillipmellor 