Like Loving Stone

I feel that some people are blessed with an obvious beauty in their life that seems to show on the skin like a tattoo. Never a hard shallow plastic but a deepness of the skin that one can't help but admire. I'm always so helpless around those people. I search desperately for some safe passage of communication but in their presence I am a foreigner in a strange land. They dwell in the forests and hills in the cold winters and green warm times. I am a man from the barren deserts which holds a beauty one must dig for like water. My skin is dark and dry. I am used to the constant sun in the sky beating down on me like a critical watching eye. But it gives me direction. In those deep wooded forests I get lost. The sun is so far away hiding like a child behind the clouds and tree tops. I have no direction. I miss the comfort in sadness. I know not what to do with all this green and shade. All this life and love flowing threw these mighty trunks. The desert is such a different place... No sign of love. A environment that seems to reject your very being. But the real difference lay in the lessons learned. The blind will of survival. To live with no comfort whether it's under the blistering god who blankets the earth with its wrathful waves or the stone cold loneliness that comes quickly in her absence. Desperation. Those forests hold none. But from the forest comes a different breed i love so helplessly. My skin is cracked and dry... my lips are white and I am much to desperate for water. They will never see me in such a way... She is born of love and I am born of pain.