The desert streams by in flashes of memory and wind
softly seeming, the hair on my arms moves in the currents
the idea of standing in motion, the semi-satisfactory momentum
the balance disturbed, the awkward hint of absurd notion.
The darkness rises, the fall of stars out of the night
the dream of sleep, resting in between the phases of moonlight
casting shadows down onto the landscape like the shattering
cacophony of rain, drum beating rhythm in repetitive strains
wracking the the calm that once was to be found in my brain.
Am I that remains?
The sun kisses the beach, the water rolls in until the two meets
can anything so smooth ever be just as sweet, infinitely complete
I feel the need for flight, for the vibrations that come with speed
as feet find the air, the meaning of words, the prophecies to hear
the writing coming off the wall, ideas to random to find purchase to
catch, berthing on the rocks, the touch of iron strikes sparks
tiny glows adrift in flight, burning like drops of fire floating away
out of sight, the return to the soft regular grains woven into the bed
sheets, the place between I and my lover come to meet, soft,
willows, the duplicity of another sad sweet refrain as the song plays
out to the ripples fading away down into the abyssal deep.
I return once again to the memory of sheep.
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