I live in a desert, but I do not live in a sandy place. People associate me with happy feet.

Soil for most. Oceans for some. Meadows for few. But each have two.

I mark the start, yet bring no end, A silent gift that life will send. From nothing's hush, I come to earth... The spark, the cry, the moment: .....?

I sleep in tales both old and grand, With hoarded gold and scorched-out land. A whisper wakes me, wings take flight... I breathe in fear, and blaze the night.

Feathers of speed in a land scorched dry, I mock pursuit with a fleeting cry. No snare or trap can hold me down, Though foes may chase with gadgets renowned. Ever ahead, never caught.