Desert Llama

I trot through the red sand, the hot sun burning down on me. Dunes stretched as far as the eye could see, that is, if my eyes could see. I'm not going to die in a hospital, oh no. I'm not going to give out with a puff and a whimper, no. I was going to make a mark on history. I read a poem once, talking about something like this.

"Ride a wild horse  with purple wings   Striped yellow and black   except his head   which must be red.

''Ride a wild horse against the sky – hold tight to his wings''

''before you die whatever else you leave undone once ride a wild horse into the sun."''

~By Hannah Kahn (not me)

Before I die of this infection in my eye, I'm going to mark this Forgotten Desert with my hooves, even if it's the last thing I'll do. The eagles and falcons and toucans don't want me here, they say it's for member fliers only. I'm going to do it, though. My name will be in the Jamaa Journal, The Llama Who Got Into the Forgotten Desert. I wasn't going to give up easy.

WIP