I crawl from
The flaming wreck,
Over the burning sand.
I reach out for water, but
Gather only rocks.
The water has moved away,
Just a little bit further.
Always a little hit further.
I crawl until my hands and face bleed.
When I give up,
Lie on my back,
Stare into the sun,
A pitcher of the sweetest water!
All this while I had not asked.