Not far from the edge drunken without drink
The moisture of a storm, a passionate hot breeze
Sons of the desert take me to the brink
Above the canyons of tomorrow where I see
The future freeze.
Like a bird on the wing in the wind stream
Freedom-flying from this momentary glance
I feel the pull of the moon like a sweet dream
When first awakened from a temporary trance.
Then by the winged feet of daybreak’s deathless dawn
I heard the singer cry life’s never-ending song:
“Youth that’s spent in hast soon tires of the race
and the more you turn your back the more
you’re face-to-face.”
