Fallow lands beseech the hand,
futility drawn in the sand,
nothing left to understand,
dust all it commands.
Fertility is just a brand,
a contrast born from life\'s demand,
come now stand, see it firsthand,
weak, the lights disband.
Not so grand, the best laid plans,
cursed ever to misunderstand,
intention turns to ash, expands,
shapes what we withstand.
Dust all it commands.