View from above

I gaze upon myself 
God's eye view of a parched desert
prone I lie on a bed of arrows 
rivulets of my blood flowing crystalline 
refusal to genuflect before fate's army 
perhaps I pay the price for serendipity 
Beleaguered still;
to quench parched land I bleed
for not a faint moment of quiescence 
nor the whisper of a lover's embrace 
has touched my drained skin
this is the landscape of my alone
the image of my solitude.

©Lost