The Desert Storm

You delve through realms strange and unknown, your staff and sword held by your side; where stories old and myths untold, retell the dangers by your stride. Of shifting earth and scorching wind, where enmity does abide; of deadly fangs and monstrous eyes, jaws gaping ever wide…

The desert draught and ancient sands, defy your very will; eroding at the strength within, despite your efforts still. Expansive ruin and dying land, conspire to fulfil; the grip of death upon your hand, waiting to take its kill…

But you shall not fear.

You feel the power in your heart, the calling of the sword; the destiny to conquer still, the sovereign accord. You sense the wonder in your soul, the mysteries unexplored; the staff of wisdom’s guiding light, the promise of reward…

So you persevere.

Into the core of the blinding winds, you venture with power conferred - the Staff of Wisdom’s divine light, as a shield to thus begird. Through to the heart of the desert storm, you enter with faith undeterred - to seek the amulet’s hidden lair, no matter the obstacles incurred…

And you encounter forces unheard.

Wrathful currents of blinding gale, assault your exposed form, as vast tempests of immense force, attack through ruthless swarm. Hailing dust and desert sand, assail in howling storm, as downpours of earth and stone, ravage and ever deform…

And you are afraid.

A gush of sand bombards your shield, dimming the staff’s dying light, its force demanding your strength to yield, to its desolate ruthless might. Ripples of gale strike at your form, unearthing the desert’s blight - a thousand billows of dusty storm, consumed with defiant spite…

You almost collapse.

Hands upon your unsteady staff, bending against the stormy rage - of the desert’s unwavering wrath, its reckless merciless rampage. Feet upon the dissolving earth, evaporating to dust - reduced to nothing by violent wind, through every trembling gust…

The fear deepens.

The staff senses your fading hope, and dims its dying light; reducing its protective scope, diminishing its might. The storm invades your broken shield, its dust blinding your sight; turning your vision to darkness, descending into blight…

And everything is transformed into howling night. 

You ignite the sword, but see no light, not even it’s form. So you ask heaven, but hear no words, deafened by the storm…

But heaven hears your heart - the undying faith within the gale, the courage that will never fail. The power of love to thus entail, the hope that always shall prevail…

And it whispers to you these silent words…

You are not the resistance to change, nor the grasping at the flowing stream. You are not the control you crave, nor the power you seek to gleam…

You are the stillness within the storm, the earth that lies absolute in form. You are the centre of turbulence, the energy that flows to transform…

And when you let go of that control, then you are truly powerful…

So you believe.

You let go to the stillness within, the power that transcends all fear, and a gentle peace expands therein, strengthening you to persevere. As you surrender to the natural flow, an energy emanates from your soul, a wisdom that no mortal can know, knowledge sovereign and whole…

And the staff reawakens.

Shining, radiant, exploding power, ascends from its crystalline light, enveloping your exposed form, flowing with heavenly delight. Glorious, holy, majestic radiance, infused with divine might, inundates your weakened presence, with unsearchable insight…

The insight that you are the storm…

That you are the stillness…

That you are One.

Recognising your kinship, the wind violently howls, and acknowledging your spirit, the storm humbly bows. Affirming your oneness, the gale into you flows, and asserting your power, the earth with you dissolves…

And you are free.

Free to breathe the living wind, that only faith can perceive; to revere the elements, that oneness unites to conceive. Free to command the desert storm, through the power to believe; the wisdom of the heavens high, that you have dared to receive…

Free to hear your soul.

So the storm speaks into you, through tongues of deafening power - its untamed spirit of nature’s wrath, impatient to devour…

So you listen.

The desert winds whisper to you, that the treasure is hidden within - in the eye of the tempest storm, where the artefact abides therein. There lay the entrance to the darkened cave, where darkness gapes ever wide - through which you must undertake, for there the amulet shall abide…

And you are ready.