I stood
on the hot sands looking
from east
to the wide open west.
The wind
rising from the north to sing south
blowing
crystalline tears sparkling in waves
across
the shallow dunes.
I realize
that I must be along way from my home.
Bagwah,
City of Golden Sands, rises out of the night,
promising
the treasures of Sharizaddi's thousand and
one
nights. Delights undreamed of- fill my thoughts
as before
the great gates I fall finding my knees in the
the same
hot sands I have crossed.
I feel
the might of the Semitic God upon my shoulder
forcing
me to bow down as if demanding a prayer,
but the
new warmth tells me it is the newborn sun
rising to
remind me that I have no more water.
In the
silence the thunderous whisper of a memory
reminds
me as to what drove me here.
The
passion for a woman with dark skin and deep eyes burns hot like the hunger that
has brought me to this parched end at a dry oasis, and neither her beauty nor
my desire can bring me back to my feet as I pitch forward with one last memory to
accompany me into darkness, lust and desire can lead a fool to drink from a poisoned
well.
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