Miles and miles. Step after step.

The clear blue watering hole

One more hill.

Just one.

The healing salve of the wet coolness as it soaks into the parched and pained skin of his mouth.

A dream that keeps him moving.

Stepping, climbing.

As the moment is closer, his dreams expand.

Life is no longer one hour long.

Life is life again.

Water is life and it is soon.

A wife. A child. He remembers.

Cracked lips form a smile,

Steps are lighter, faster.

All is well now, all is better.

Life is life again.

Salvation in liquid form, and the footprints tell the desert creatures he has been reborn.

Near.

A darkness in sight. A leap in the heart.
Nearer.

The sweetness of his thickened blood of cracked lips reminds him he is alive.

Soon washed down by the clear potion

Ailments to be healed, body and mind.

He dares to give permission. Thoughts tempting fate.

Like a child pushing his bare toe over the condemned line.

He dares. Takes the bait.

Life is alive. Wife, child. Now a thirsty tear , one, two, three, four.

They fall down, no longer bound by the fear of dry death.

Water, so very soon.

Steps, heat. The damp soon here.

Eyes have fixed!

Life is truly alive!

Wife, Child!

Dirty, brown, blue, clean.

All is acceptable when near death.

The dark damp pulls him.

Tears slide in surrender.

Reaching, dropping, falling into salvation

Lips reach for it, strain, afraid, yet brave.

And in the dark he finds it.

Dry.

Nothing more.