The World Is..

The World Is .....

The World is in

 In The  Process of Ending;

In  an imaginary  quest

Of  burning  the

Hot  sand, the  lonely  

Desert, not as  a marauder,

A ride on the horse,

Hoofs  make imprints.

Trample upon uncared for

Dying Plants, half  dead insects,

Sands, sand  dunes  voice

Eerie, lonely  chores.

Huskiness  dwells in.

Far  beyond  the  edge,

A  spooky  giant  like,

A  Tree  by  a  pond;

Miles  to go  far beyond,

When  Thirst  throttles

You  are not dying:

World is almost ending.