The Desert of the Crab
Oh let me die in the lair of the crab!
There in her desert of sand,
Claw swinging sharp with a perilous jab,
Snipping the foe with her hand.
She makes a desert as dark as the sky,
Shrouded in midnight’s embrace,
Ruthlessness flares in the light of her eye,
Awesome the fire in her face.
Nothing is sharper and nothing so true,
As this — her incredible claw,
Ending the life of the things she’d eschew,
Deadly her merciless law!
Here is the desert of sand where she lives,
Sparse and prodigiously bland,
She is the monarch, and glory she gives,
To spirits we don’t understand.
Honouring water and mystical life,
Mighty with brave second sight,
She sees forever — our love and our strife,
The angst in our doom stricken plight,
She finds her solace in shells of the sea,
In morning, in blackness composed,
The shrubs that persist by the base of the tree,
With glamour and glory deposed.
She garners peace by the sway of the wave,
Graceful in moonlight so fair,
Smiling at colour in wildflowers brave,
There in her desolate lair.
Instances where little specks of bright gold,
Shine from her treasure chest heart,
Precious this sun, which reveals itself bold,
And which such life can impart.
Oh let me meditate there in her world,
There in her sandy abyss,
Everything barren, with shells lying curled,
There is my ultimate bliss.
🦀
adamdaniel 