A Landless Claim

In the draught of it’s sort,
on the lofty lands where sun dried mountains part.
Thirst is the instinct to survive.
Parched and decrepit, the feeble hands of mankind.
They fumble to carry on,
choices exist no more, a pessimists call.
A complete lack of appeal to futile promulgations of how one should go on.
A lifetime in a glance, envision what crosses the mind of one in such adversity.
The serene look is an oxymoron,
incongruous to the disquietude inside.
Ashen, gaunt and worn down.
Cowering back of the macerated moral stance.
In moments of self deprecation
eyes glistening in pain
for everything from here is hope, largess and godsent.
A landless claim.