In the glass where through reflections can pass, there's an oasis.

I drink deep of the goatskin I carry and feel again pure as if water's the cure for what ails me.

Here in the desert where the hot sun assaults me and the scorpions though friendly revolt me
I sink and I swim and each grain of sand that I move only moves to begin to move once again,

I liken this to the drunkards kiss.

Miss me I miss me and reach out to touch me, in the glass what do I see? me reaching out for perfection in the garbled reflection and I do not understand the glass nor the sand.

It's all trial and error,
a patience where the terror stands still.

Offer me a look in the glass and next time I think that I'll pass and watch the reflections as they wander on by.