The forgotten oasis may be the soul,
A place of refuge from daily heat,
A time to reflect on life’s feat,
To unpack the story writ in mind’s scroll.
Rest a moment amid existential shouts,
See the scope of surrounding sands,
A moral compass points and understands,
Escape from the tyranny of endless doubts.
Hidden waters rise and refresh,
Restoring the inner blessing,
Shooing away useless stressing,
For freedom from issues that emesh.
The shifting sands will return,
Covering the oasis source,
Another search for another course,
To find soul’s water for which I yearn.
The path lies rounding up ahead,
Where souls rest, once needs are pled.
Francis Conlon is a retired and recovering teacher. For the past 20 years, he has worked as a seasonal river ranger and boat inspector at Yampa River State Park in northwest Colorado. He has published in the local Valley Voice and in Westward Quarterly. He currently lives in Salt Lake City, Utah.