Bleak landscape transcends its shoulders,
writhes in pain.
I praise the light for green haloes and tall figures,
which cast long shadows on parched lips, my world.
The hot sand fills the eyes.
A palpalable seizure shakes the horizon.
I drift like a dry leaf on the winds of time
the perplexities of sand dunes and dancing smoke.
What I was striving for all life?
A metaphorical silence spends the energy of unspoken waking.
The rich decadence of things unhappned.
The occult rules the flesh and the music of life dies.
The names start trading the tree, full of flowers,
inarticulately to faithless autumn.
The twigs long for mother shape
the icons will swallow the melting grief in vain.