I stand on the top of a mountainous dune to open my eyes and gaze at the lunar eclipse

the desert strips away all pretence
the scorpion treads boldly here where the night is cold and the air's full of fear,

I hear the wind playing tunes on the sand or some unseen hand playing tricks on my mind

in this solitude
where the sun finds a home
where nomads roam
I comb through my life like
I comb through my hair
and
pull out the tangles.