The desert

The desert, at first thought, often conjures images of desolate land, prickly trees, and a sort of lifeless aura; the rocks beneath the relentless sun create an environment that doesn’t seem fitting for life. And I think one of the most defining characteristics of the desert is the heat. It’s not just a physical attribute but a testament that shapes what it means to exist in a landscape like the desert.

I find it fascinating, but it has never been my favorite landscape to immerse myself in. I’ve found myself to be overtaken by mountain peaks and crystal blue lakes. I carry this immense amount of respect when I enter the desert, the same as I do for being in the mountains, but the feeling I get is different. There are no signs pointing to life, and it’s like all the noise in the world was sucked out, not even the remnants of the sound of a stream. The silence is not a silence of life but of death. My adventures in the mountains have come with those nights of silence, but for some reason, I could always hear life. Maybe I was making it up in my head, but I always felt I heard the sound of trees blowing with the sound of a stream miles away, knowing that it was out there, connected somehow, someway, to life.

In the desert, under the sun

A silence reigns, where life seems missing.

Rocks and sands span far and wide,

In this silence, I feel undone

Yet in mountains high, where life sings loud

On top of peaks, I feel life near.

In the desert the silence, brilliant and complex,

Holds a different secret, lost and still.

In the desert, im alive.