It waits not for the caravans,
They all come only to leave.
It waits not for the clouds,
For their shade is fleeting too.
Not even for the rains does it wait,
The drops are ephemeral,
And their song too short lived.
Only for the tides it waits to rise,
And the waves to surge forth, And for the breeze,
In the far away ocean,
Enclosed in embrace of horizon,
To bring the lilting echoes
Of the ocean's song,
For ages the stillness of sands,
And the solitude of oasis
Wait only for those echoes.
