An English Ghazal

before his eyes is a desolate land
his caravan's lost in a sea of sand

his promises wait to be fulfilled
he prays to heavens for a magic wand

he longs for the sun to set in the west
for dune to have shadow on its hand

the night will come with a million stars
still for him it won't be grand

his soul is out of tune, uni,
like some music of a raucous band