Lament of the Oasis
(What is an opportunity? Some believe it to be a door that opens at will. I believe opportunity to be an oasis in a desert; often taunting travelers with its mirage like appearance. Only the most persevering and dedicated individuals stumble across it. In life too, we tire easily while searching in vain for that opportune moment that would lift us to glory. What we fail to perceive, is the strong will demanded of a strong mind. We wouldn't find chances lying around for the taking as and when we please. It takes a great deal of effort to make good of an opportunity. There is only a slim chance that we'd come across another one anytime in the future.
History is filled with instances of people working relentlessly to make up for lost chances. Sadly, they hardly stick around enough to encounter it and often times give up easily at the first sign of strife. This poem is my take on what an opportunity feels for those who fail to find it; a silent plea to be found, yet despair at being disappointed repeatedly).
The camel's hoofs sound away too far,
Sandstorms snarl in golden ring,
Dunes so high as mighty bars,
Scorching pins flying, painfully sting.
The nomad prays in wait, his load a mess,
Desert nectar he craves, beyond reach rests.
Not distant, an oasis peacefully stills,
His current silent in the wind's wake,
He trembles in glee, a nomad beyond hills,
He sees heaving, sinking in molten lake.
He beckons the storm, demands surrender,
Traveler’s thirst quenched, he would render.
The storm, a disciple, blows in haste,
Rising sandal castles, she sails,
To the lone man wilting sans elixir’s taste,
She promises joy and relief in pails.
Her reward unheard, he wails in pain,
Her flailing limbs blot vision in sand rain.
The oasis weeps his loss once more,
So long ages, he drifts unseen,
Many a man lost in mine's core,
Their spirits wander about his pearly sheen,
They sigh in regret, chance lost long in dreams,
His wish remains for a cloak of determined seams.