Binary Code Embers
You roam these sands alone.
The scorching sun a burden on your naked skin.
As you wear your mark of cain
You've seen as many days as grains of sand
One certainty:
You'll soon be facing death
You drop down to your knees and to the skies you plea,
And then horizon reveals to you a brilliant isle of green.
Under the shade of sycamores
You find your peace
You lay your head on protruding roots
And fall asleep
You dream of tyrants rule, all the power held by you
As they all fell down to their knees.
And on your tyrant's throne you finally felt at home
As if the sands were just a distant dream.
But then you feel the sting of embers on your skin
You wake to see a burning isle of green
