Mind suspended in a Saharan wind-
A howl in the night, dry as the reply.
Empty as the tumbling weed, with no oasis to contain it.
The mirage stretching out, an endless lake,
must lie to the sand beneath it.
The cactus, overseeing an abyss, never tires of the sight; watching its shadow deform around the clock
is enough for its contentment.
Stars, how you always find the night to join!
You throw the sun out of bed when it gets too tight,
sometimes stealing the blanket with it.
The moon is sculpted by echoes of the lone wolf,
time forgotten in its throat upon each breath.