Sand shores of bleached blonde vines cross ample pores of desert's time, winds uproar deadly yellow sparkly vines marking their way carried through coils of clouds stretched across the thin divine blue.

Each thread wound red and read around red,
each strand like hair on heads,
winding winding winding, scarlet crimson thin and loud.
poking around and round balling up then smashing down,
scattering golden particle conical explosion.

Beam like lights and heat and time sundered the knot and bound it still in a golden hue, sand-like, it's color stained. In time, people came.
They marveled at it's strands.
They called to other lands.
Can anyone unravel this?
They asked.
And many came, but to no one's blame, they failed.
Until Alexander the Great thought to cut instead of unravel.