Yardang

Your face is in shade, your eyes looking to a desolate land.
Just a little turn of your head, and a beam of light touches your nose.

I’m getting doubtful about this planet. What is it?
What is this life.

To live in a never-ending sunset, never-ending end,
just hoping for mercy.

Still, a monument of wisdom is laying in front of me,
arms and legs stretching softly, half asleep,
endless time for dreaming, for something
that is just to come,
like the sun.

Your face is now in the sun.
I see just a harsh cliff, from the top of which
we have to throw ourselves
into the never-ending oblivion.