Upon the dunes of stars, it makes its trail,
The Camel crowned with cosmic, holy grace;
With humps of wisdom, firm and yet so frail,
It bears the weight of truths we dare not face.
Behold, this beast some worship from afar,
Its bridle made of verse, its saddle, lies;
They claim it carries souls to Heaven’s bar,
Yet spits upon the faithful in disguise.
The prophets chant, “Oh, bow before its might!
This sacred dromedary knows the way!”
But in the dark, they wrestle, scratch, and fight,
Debating if it’s beige or simply gray.
So let us ride, dear fools, and feign delight,
On Camel’s back, through endless desert night.