The Flower of Burning Sands
O wanderer, pause—thy feet have strayed
From meadows where soft springs are laid.
I am no flower of spring-born air,
Nor petal nursed by springtime’s care.
Some flowers rise beyond desire.
I rise where life is burned away,
A desert wrought of dust and clay.
My roots drink thirst from stone and sand,
My petals burn where none may stand.
Such flowers rise beyond desire.
No tender heart may linger here;
This place consumes both hope and fear.
Pass on—seek May where senses roam,
Where light and fragrance weave a home.
For flowers blooming in gentler lands …
Yet know: the Rose you leave in sand
Is one thy soul must still demand.
Beyond …
- Salahud Din Sani
