Lost in a desert

Everywhere I look it is the same,
The same colour, the same sand.
Flat plains, rolling dunes,
This is what they call desert land.
Fine grains make the ground so soft,
It is hard to trudge, feet just don't budge.
Though not wet, it is sticky like a swamp,
But so dry, I wished it was damp.
The horrid sun poured down its heat,
Baking the sand, and all upon it.
Sweat dripped down like a waterfall,
My throat, parched like a furnace wall.
The wind was not a help either,
Carrying sand across the land,
Eroding away all in its path,
Hitting me like little pellets.
Not a person in my sight,
Moisture I seek with all my might.
Could it be that the end is near,
An unmarked grave in a sandy land?