Desert Pale کے بول

Desert storm He gazes at the clouds Sand on black wings of death He prayed for nightfall not unexpected fury The sound of tornadoes, a black symphony To fill his mind with thorns And sometimes there a face he calls lord Desert sky He stares at the moon A hole in the curtain of night A nomad in mind A warrior in honour and blood Thorn the son of wind and will He knew he had opened the gift All life commences and ceases under god The wind caressed his face that night Pneuma grabbed his heart He shivered and fell on his knees to ride the storm Desert storm A red cloud of fear Beauty at the edge of pain He reached for his sword as the colours turned pale