• A stranger in the desert,
    walking
    searching
    hoping to find
    that oasis hidden…
    by the powerful forces
    thrown by life.
    A thirst
    for the cool water
    filled with the feeling of knowing
    that he’ll live for another day.
    A body
    that aches
    from the solitude
    casted on him
    by God himself.
    A heart…
    yearning to escape
    from the coldness of the desert.
    And eyes,
    eyes tainted
    from the painful experiences,
    that look
    for a deceased hope.

    The stranger,
    A magnificent composer
    of words
    One who brings
    into this world
    wondrous and powerful poetry.
    Stories and poetry that hold
    a much deeper meaning,
    a powerful meaning,
    that can bring
    tears to people’s eyes
    or laughter to their lives,
    brightening their faces.
    Words
    that relive the powerful emotions
    felt in his life
    and tell of the experiences
    that nobody should go through
    at such an age.
    A writer
    poet
    teller of memories,
    that is who he is.

    A player
    an admirer
    one who puts his all
    into a game
    a dream
    an escape
    from the troubles of ft his world
    One who risks his all
    on something so enjoying.
    Someone who has
    such a deeper meaning
    to a game so simple.
    A person
    who destroys his body
    for the love of the game…

    An intellect
    who lazes around.
    One who gladly
    helps and tutors those who ask.
    An unmotivated student
    who ignores the teaching
    and stares
    at the drifting clouds.
    A deep thinker,
    pondering the many things
    that life seems to throw,
    and trying to find a way
    to stop them.

    A brother,
    one of the youngest,
    who sits and watches
    his other siblings excel
    in so many categories.
    And he,
    a bystander,
    wonders when his time will come…
    when his time will come
    when he can finally
    step off of the sidelines
    and feel the wondrous things
    they have felt.

    He,
    seen in the eyes of others,
    is a pal
    a friend
    a loyal brother.
    Somebody
    who could be trusted,
    depended on
    a person
    that’ll help them up
    when they fall down.
    A friend,
    one who’s always willing
    to walk with somebody
    and help carry the things
    that weigh on someone else’s
    aching, numb shoulders.
    A friend
    that looks
    through somebody else’s cold eyes
    and sees the turmoil,
    feeling the same
    that they do.

    Who is he?
    Who is the one
    who treks through the desert?
    This stranger,
    a writer
    an athlete
    an intellect
    a friend,
    is nothing more
    than a stranger.
    The stranger,
    a wanderer, only travels
    from one foreign place
    to the next,
    searching for what was lost.
    He feels
    none of the numbing pain
    none of the thirst
    none of the heartache.
    He only moves on,
    wondering nothing
    but one thing:
    When will this ever end?