The Desert's Gift

I live in the desert, and have always been fascinated by the resilience of anything that lives here... and how life depends on the marriage of opposites that exists between drought and storm. I've found that same resilience exists in human beings.

Flat and parched the desert lies,
Underneath the burning sun;
Forbidding, endless, hot, and harsh,
Certain death to anyone.
Life? What meaning has that here,
Where sand is all that moves?
While malignant blaze prevails,
Nothing blooms, nothing loves.

The terror of a storm unleashed
Alone disrupts the silent land;
Pouring moisture from on high
Saturates and cools the sand.
Lightning flashes, thunder rolls,
The fury of the sky holds sway.
When silence once again returns,
What now is where the desert lay?

Surely, if life braved the heat,
It could not bear that storm.
Surely, death alone can reign,
Now that the winds have torn
To pieces all the thorny plants
That thrive in desert drought.
If ever any creature lived,
The storms have snuffed it out.

That’s all that logic can suggest,
But when does that see right?
For when the sun next rises,
The desert’s blooming bright.
Though all may stand in wonder,
The storm has set it free,
And now the lonesome desert
Shows what its gift must be.

Where else can seeds stay buried
So deep they’re never seen?
Where else does sudden storming
Change desolate to green?
Through all the years, these sands
Can wait with all their life,
Until some storm comes tearing
To set love free by strife.