Whispers of the Desert

In the vast golden canvas of the desert,

Where the sun scorches with sincere fervor,

Stretches the realm of the arid and barren,

A magical place, defiant and austere.

The golden dunes, erect and serene,

Rise like waves in an endless sea,

Mute witnesses of stories you condemn,

Lost paths where there is no end.

The wind whispers ancient secrets,

Carrying with it sighs of the past,

Between the pillars of the tall cactus,

Rises the essence of captive dreams.

Under the fiery sky of intense sapphire,

The stars shine with incandescent light,

They tell legends of heroes in trance,

Who defied the immense desert.

The oasis is a gift divine,

A refuge of life in hostile lands,

Palms stand as guardians,

Offering shade and subtle springs.

At night, the silence is a deep echo,

Interrupted only by the howl of the coyote,

The moon watches from her throne in the world,

A silent witness to a remote landscape.

The bones of the past lie in the sand,

Stories etched in stone and ash,

The footprints of creatures once queens,

They leave a mark that the wind does not forget.

In this scene of stillness and mystery,

Nature paints her masterpiece,

Where life flourishes in a serious corner,

And the desert reveals its sincere beauty.

The wandering nomads seek in its embrace,

A course, a refuge in the midst of emptiness,

Following the stars in their passage,

Weaving their longings into a rite.

The shifting sands, capricious and free,

Shape mountains and valleys without end,

The wind sculpts reliefs in their fibers,

Creating a landscape that never ends.

At dawn, the desert is tinged with gold,

The first rays caress the sand,

A glow that awakens the treasure,

Of the life that in this wasteland commands.

The colors of sunset paint the sky,

A canvas of purples, pinks and fire,

The dance of shadows, a subtle game,

The desert is clothed in a mantle of irrigation.

And when the night comes in its black cloak,

A blanket of stars illuminates the abyss,

The cold caresses with its serene breath,

While time stands still in its rhythm.

In each grain of sand lies a story,

A journey, a love, a song,

The desert is a book of wisdom,

Where nature writes with passion.

Birds take flight in infinite freedom,

Searching for a horizon that knows no limit,

The furtive fox, the blessed snake,

In this realm, each creature is a breath.

So, in this realm of contrasts and reveries,

Where thirst and survival intertwine,

The desert sings with its own designs,

An eternal poem that embraces the wind.