The lonely coast of patience

At the edge of the great deserts lies the shore of the endless waters, There I stood alone again after a long trip chasing the mirage of a timeless warmness and endless refuge. The desert is so dangerous, you could spend all your time and effort pursuing mirages and daydreams of the green. I stood in the middle of the blue and white clouds as they clashed together with all the coldness and warmth they carried, then rain fell right on me. I looked through I saw the moon veiled by the layers of the clashing clouds. I wanted it so bad that I wished I would be a soul un felt and un desired just to be in this moment for life and after-life, for the second and eternity for now and forever. I felt I touched it but I didn't, I was not thinking straight, My senses tricked me, though the signs were real. I could swear they were real. Later on I realized I was sun-struck. I can't tell if I am alive or no. Sometimes I doubt that I am real, maybe I am a dream. Maybe I am a spirit or an angel. Or maybe I am a devil and a trap. Whatever I am I touched the moon, but it was so cold, dead as it rolls by drifting through the dark purple skies of the wild desert. Its light dazzled me for so long that I couldn't sleep of its beauty but it wasn't real. It was just a reflection of the sun. Just like memories, sweet but they are no longer real to be lived and felt. Those darn memories that choked the life out of the desert and hope out of me. Now I go back to where I started, the lonely coast of patience.