I once new a traveler, a crazy old coot.
That used to tell stories, wearing a hole ridden suit.
He had one favorite of them all A single odd tale, that was relatively small.
A tale everyone liked least of all.
I will repeat his story, because only I understand.
I will repeat his tale of that awful lost land.
There is a desert as large as three seas
It's a truly dreadful place to be
But at it's center, legends are told
Legends of a wondrous city of gold.
I crossed this desert, it took two long months But I only ever faltered once.
It was at the thing I had searched for in the middle of hell.
In despair and unraveling to my knees I fell.
For the only thing their was a statue of a man and a pillar, both made of stone
On that day my mind became no longer my own.
The pillar was inscribed, the words ring in my head
They have stolen my youth, and fill me with dread.
This is what the pillar said.
"I am Promordius the Bold Ruler of this mighty city of gold I am the king of kings, and my will is infernal.
And my empire will stand eternal.
The greatest of all things humans have built.
A beautiful rose, that never will wilt."
The traveler always ended the tale the same way.
He always had the same thing to say.
"Of all the unimaginable things I've seen.
Of all the indescribable places I've been.
My mind always returns to the empire of sand.
It always reminds me just how human I am."