In The Desert Of Taklamakan Poem by Roy Ballard

The Black Jade river and the White
in snowy heights are born;
from mountains of celestial light
they rush to meet the dawn.

The banners of the rising sun
they turn to face then flow
towards the deserts of the North
where rivers should not go.

They go in but they don't come out
the solitudes of sand,
the oceans of perpetual drought,
the neither sea nor land.

I wandered as the rivers do
into a desert place;
as they are lost I am lost too
without a track to trace.

I went in but I won't come out;
the dunes won't let me by
without a soul to hear me shout
or bless me as I die.