A poem tells a story

Huffing, struggling to his feet,
The unforgiving desert heat
All the hope that he had left
was sinking, done and dead

Blowing, stinging in his face
The sand was all that he could taste
He knew that soon his time would come
the dust would be his bed

Weakly falling to his knees
The desert triumphed his defeat
No longer could he take one step
He let his body go

But just before he closed his eyes
He saw a figure by his side
It's outstretched feathers bright and red
emitting mystic glow

Just then the light had lit the sky
Was this death, had he just died?
His eyes adjusted to light
his suffering was done

Lifting himself off the ground
He felt as if he was unbound
The creature that had saved him left
And there was only the sun