Where two lands meet
	with rocks and sands scattered 'fore the forest's feet.
Where two lands meet
	with desert sands, the shrubs and trees so graciously greet.

Desperately disparate worlds the waters wonderfully bind,
	interspaced by common ground.
Strangely separate pools, peculiarly their way to wind,
	till at last the horizon's found.

Dreamy mountains in the distance far,
	below some wisps of white, merge softly into sky.
And peering in, some galaxies of star,
	from out the right corner of the eye.

The waters are reward for patience - the waiting sands' desert -
	but, reluctantly, amongst soft sands they may not creep.
Instead, between both lands, to form a dividing skirt,
	and, only on the one side, to grow a forest dark and deep.

Such a strange abode
	where two lands so diverse could meet,
of such opposing mode
	that graciously they could yet greet?

A landscape so fancifully fine
	- only in dreams it could exist.
In one shape two lands combine,
	in the mind of a dreamer and surrealist.