part, the first                                                    
hauling through the desert          

the passing drum band-    

the unending rhythm


taste the dust storm          

the thump of my feet raw response    

each oncoming moment- the last; but yet to come


following the north star          

the answer- an end    

what was the question


the soldiers on skeleton camels          

to what war do i march forward to    

where was my solidarity when the band passed


scorched- exhausted death march          

the old man always told- foretold      

his stories; old as the desert


or the star which scorched the earth          

which burned the roots      

his tongue was with the soldiers


the verse rode the wind          

part, the second                                                    

with the clouds; non-presence      

written on scrolls

as old as the sun which scorched the earth      

the north star just as old-

but the drum band has passed      


with the dust we once tasted