Another poem.

The sun.
It's rays.
It's swords.
Piercing thoughts.
Burning.
Lifes heat and lifes pain.
And the cracks of the parched ground...
Groan.
Each are a thousand minds.
Each mind a thousand thoughts.
All waiting to be quenched.
Fixed.
Freed into spoken word.
But the sun carries on beaming.
As more and more pain fills the cracks.
Are we destined to be trapped in natures prison?
Or is there hope...
For someday it will rain.