He walks on desert sands, scorching heat on his soles,

A parched and weary man, craves, thirsts for water holes.

Beating down upon him, the air, on fire, burning,

His journey sapping strength, draining, waning, yearning.

 

At last! In the distance! Palm trees surround a pool!

Fronds blowing in the breeze, his sweat begins to cool.

His hopes aroused again! Heart beating, a barrage!

But now, in deep despair, he’s chased a faint mirage!

 

This life, like desert sands, scorching heat burns in souls,

A parched and weary man, thirsts to fill his heart’s holes.

That missing “it” or “her,” turns into a mirage,

While he, in deep despair, discovered sabotage.

 

Satan, prince of deserts, lures you to a mirage,

And tries to hide God’s Son, midst dunes of camouflage.

Deceitful Satan, coy, he’ll show you his mirage,

Destruction in the sands, your life now sabotaged.

 

A Stranger at a well, no bucket does He own,

But water He will give, to quench and to atone.

Water, like a fountain, He’ll pour inside of you,

Water like a cool spring, He wants to be with you!

 

Oh, desert wanderer, does heat upon you bake?

Do you, like a nomad, need this Water to slake?

Piled up all possessions? Looked for pretty faces?

None will satisfy long; He is the Oasis!