unobstructed filter, distilling,
but to capture only the angels share;
on days when body and mind
peak at truth beyond this fleshy physicality.
leader of forgotten souls, mutter more clearly
those timeless chants of base translations.
circumnavigate the wanderer towards your young forgotten fields of sandy soils and fragrances of neglected worlds.
at times there is wonder, whether this brittle form of
organic life will dry from life's haboob.
at times there is wonder, whether
this insatiable sponge will find its endless rain.
for now it seems that puddles must suffice.
in desperate times, the mist of morning dew.
maybe, it is possible, it is much sweeter this way.
although cruel, it fuels hope for more of what it seeks.