It is a hot desert,
A literal plane of nothing.
No trees to shade you,
No water to patch the sting.

The river is dead,
No water running amok.
Even the groundwater was killed,
A few ages ago.

Animal carcasses around,
No one to bury the dead.
Vultures in the desert sky,
Scavenging their daily bread.

No rainwater to touch the land,
No season to call spring.
It is a hot desert,
A literal plain of nothing.