Ahab the wanderer, desperate for water,
cried from the depths of the sands,
cursing the thirst that drove him on
through the dusts of a dying land.
My lady of fountains, the beasts in the prison
are all of them woken
they bay for my life and their thirsting has shaken
all the sweet waters from all of the streams.
Three cities I saw 'neath the foothills thrown,
like pearls they lay in the palm of the plain
each promising shade as the firebirds made
the earth a hell at noon.
But in one they drank wine and no water
and mine was the thirst of the devil himself
the second defended its eyes
and has ended the rule of the marshalls of sight
And I passed by the third where pariah dogs cowered
in the crypts of the age long dead
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