The rocky path will not always be true, But it will still lead you to the same place. Out of the mountains, a wadi once grew, And hid a paradise in the cliff face. There is a stream that turned the valley green, With time, eroding away the hard stone, Leaving behind swimming holes so serene That humankind could not leave them alone. They will travel from every corner To find some fun in this famous canyon. What ails them, they think they will find a cure After a week long holiday is done. Don’t tell them that the wadi will forget Every person it helped get wet.
It is about the sand under your feet As the in coming waves wash it away. It is about the ultimate retreat You wish to find on a vacation stay. It is about time I spent with my love Without having to worry about work. It is about no new rules from above Coming from an administrative jerk. It is about time off that I deserve Because the amount of your workload. It is about the resting of the nerve Due to the fact of the stress that is sowed. It is about a moment within reach Where we can spend the day walking the beach.
You all look like ants, crawling down below When I am able to stand from the height. I can see how far that this city grew As it takes, from nature, another bite. Over the desert, the road stretches forth To the places where the Bedouins camped; You may look to the south, east, west, and north To witness how that culture has been stamped. It can now be found within the museums, Or the picture books given to children. Humankind is subjected to its whims To ignore the places where it has been. I stand atop its crowning achievement, A tower, to God’s grace, will not be bent.
As our feet slowly sink into the sand, And it squirms into the the cracks of our shoes, The wind tries to blow us from where we stand, And the sun pays off its last daily dues. I can feel the grit filling up my teeth, And my eyes sting from the wind’s and sun’s burn. I can find a resolve from underneath As why I’m on the dune ready to learn. For it is only here when I’m alone, I can contemplate things of great import That this great expanse of grain was once stone; Nature wished it to be another sort. Where will the wind send me when I am done? Will I still feel the warmth of the sun?
We all know that it must come to an end Even though we try to fight against it, But this is not a rule that you can bend, And we must allow the moment to quit. It will open us to us something new Though that might be something that is scary, But these opportunities are so few That we should not allow them to tarry. Instead we should look towards their embrace As if fate even gave us an option; It might be better what it does replace, Only if we could seek out its intention. We may think it something we nurture, But nobody can predict our future.
The bottles have been stored behind the bar, Waiting for the moment to pop the top. The aroma will tell tales from afar Of the history of the Trappist crop. It must be poured into its holy grail; Its crown will be a creamy head of foam. The watering of your mouth will curtail The last destination of the beer’s home. It will travel to your table by tray, Becoming the coaster’s guest of honor. When the first sip finally comes to play, The complexity will make you ponder. The tradition has endured the ages Without it ever changing its stages.
In the spirit of our competition, I will cross the stage so I can shake your hand. The audience has some expectation That our exhibition will be so grand. To see who goes first, we will flip a coin; The other will pick the side they will take. Ideas we’ll explore; clashes we’ll join Will bring us to an agreement we’ll make. Though it may seem like we are in a fight, There is a greater purpose happening. We will find a compromise that is right That comes about from all this explaining. The purpose for us to participate, To learn what is right from our great debate.
I just wish to live a life that’s simple, Roaming the plains from where I was born, But there are those that look at my pimple, Thinking it’s not right for me to adorn. So I have to spend my days in hiding, Keeping careful watch for these greedy men. My problem is my eyes are short-sighting, Making it hard to see where I have been. This gives the advantage to the hunters, Creeping nearby me in the undergrowth. I will never know about their saunters, Thinking of a tree as neither and both. That’s why I keep secret my location, Keeping horns safe from another nation.
It will only take a tug on the thread Before another one will come undone, And soon on the ground, gathered in a bed, Will be left a weaving that was once spun. Focusing on one not to pull and pick Will leave someone else to give a try, Doing nothing big, just a little flick, Allowing the rest of it to comply. You run over there before it’s too late, But that will leave other idle hands free, A battle ‘gainst inevitable fate For a carpet that’s never meant to be. Still you do your best to clean up the mess As a model of calm under duress.
It is time for us to say our goodbyes While standing in the middle of the road. I laugh at how our time together flies, And our time apart bears a heavy load. As we stand at the gate for departures, Me with my bag firmly in my hand, To me, a stark revelation occurs: These moments have a limited demand. But I have to live with the choices made, And engage within the fare thee well hug, And though my emotions, right now, are frayed, I pass it off with a casual shrug. You may not think I saw the tear you shed, ‘Cause I was busy with my own instead.