Venture

The sandstorm fleeing before me, is but an illusion to my eye
Caught in a strange existence, within the confines of a mythical void
Chaos is counterproductive here, everything is relative
The more the churning dust rages outside, 
The more still and calm the air inside.

The temptation is overwhelming, the habit of comfort is the strongest vice
To stay within the eye of the storm,
Inside my oasis calm and bright.
But the dust tends to obscure, a little bit less everyday
And my eyes tend to procure, a little more mystery in the swirling haze.

Oh what would it be like? to venture outside on the darkest of nights
Where the moonlit plains are but a forgotten memory,
And the sun just might not ever rise?
Where dark confusion is the prevailing norm,
Where the swirling dust is the very fabrc of life

Where treasures lie which only the patient find,
To discover, to empower,
To see that to which we were always blind?