The remoteness of minds part 2

What lies in 
the remoteness of mind 
where dusty memories 
are blown on time’s wind, 
scorched by the sun;
a chapter spread 
across a spinifex leaning 
as red sands bury the remains, 
not a drop of life stains 
the desolate wilderness.

And yet,
dead minds speak
through rickety gates
on rusted hinges opened
where corrugated sheets
of thoughts lie baking,
lizards scurry on landscapes lost.