The voice in the Desert......

......To WIshbone my Friend, ....( this is for you.............This is just a little story that I came up with by staying up way to late one night............ I can hear your voice crying out in the desert, my Friend. Your parched, dried-up voice with in the anhydrous winds of this hellish world that we live in. You are so frail in body and soul, and all that I can do is to offer out my hand in friendship, as I have nothing else to give you my new friend. Your needs are many, I will help with what I have but it is so little. I can paint you a pitcher, or sing you a song, or write you a story for these are the only gifts that I can give to you. Your nights are quiet and tranquil and there is a lull in the wind, but the days are full of hopelessness that have hardened your hart to the ways of the world. You are desperate for a way out, to find the hope and the optimism and the ambition that you have lost. All you have left is the memorys of the deeds that were done by you and to you. You only can hope that someone will have a kind thought of you or a kind word about you. For life is only a quick flash thru the universe, then we are gone and there will no longer be the voice crying in the desert, and you my friend will be in need no longer...................................by LinDA