The still blue that ripples with the slightest touch
The stream that travels like a train set for its course
Humid moist air that floats around the teal body
How one would long to drench away their thirst
To only in dismay, find the truth behind this illusion
For this sea does not belong to the ocean
But rather to the harsh desert
That is as deceiving as a greedy merchant
But kind enough to provide hope to a parched traveler
Only for the hope to turn into despair at realization
For the reality is that the mirage only sings a fantasy of the ocean
And the desert only paints a delusion of the sea