Mirages caress the air in celebration of hope once lost
they will breathe now but wither at dusk
when the sun has lost its patience seeking a worthy companion
no one ever shines like him, he thinks
not in arrogance but longing
in an exhaustion of otherness
and he knows he has busy hands.
whorish and predictable
he will always leave eastern shores for western ones
gently touching bodies of water
or angrily scorching the audacity of land still being there without him
at times the earth trembles at his powers
breaks
protests
and the sand's shoulders go limp but rest assured
tomorrow
the sun will ****** those lands not in heat
and will still be lonely
will still not know the life he gives
or hope to barren lands and northerners
still not know that he's a part of everyone.
he IS the celebration