Gurgling water once flowed into the yellow sand, but that was a long time ago.

The great being would follow the brontides and divine will into the desert in latter days, but few would survive in the end.

The fish that once shot forth like an arrow across a huge lake on the plateau,

That would stretch out as straight as a spear, cruising back and forth between the sacred sites,

Would see its stream seep into the sand, its lake shrink into a puddle,

Till at last, it wound up curled in a little plash, at the mercy of passing pilgrims.

The less on this story is as such:

As long as you are pious and kind, you can get a fish even in the midst of the desert sands.