A stimulating impulse, Leading to the center of a drying up ocean, Never a wish granted, it dries up to extinction, What little hope it holds, vanquished in an instant, Life that now cannot grow out of light, creates a desert, How many souls will it take until it is satisfied with its destruction ? Only sorrow may remain as the one true victor. A heart felt fancy would be the assumption, Of a brighter, lively future, Yet there is no faith in it ever coming, It is but a lost dream.