Land of the Dead

Copse on an ochre sea
Water pure within
A teeming bountiful green
Adrift, a mirage therein?

Howls to an uncaring sky
The searing sand pervade
Stark life; a poor end, desiccate
The dead rise from beneath

Night beckons; Sol abate
Pearl and diamonds there
Hang high, unreachable
Under the land of the dead