but that could be said of anywhere.
However, some places
seem to have hypnotic hips and easy eyes
with a mischevious, seductive scarab grin.
Like magic, it pulls me in.
Here, labels like good or bad are trite,  
there is only this magnetic whirling
energy culling myself and others inside
simply because we picked up the phone and showed up.

But now it's our responsibility to find balance
amidst serene listless apathy on the beach
and party hardy into the midnight arty energy scene jack & coke down the rabbit hole we go.

Some Bedouins say Dahab means "time  goes,"
which has me convinced Moses and his folks weren't lost
in terms of location but lost when it relates to time,
trying to find a middle path
between excess and sloth
in this south Sinai town.


Yes, not two but three schools of thought,
forming a triangle in this hypnotizing spiral;
two points of excess and one of balance!
All three balance each other,
and it's hell trying to stay in the center of this eye
of this metaphorical storm of enlightenment.
Naturally, gravitational forces pull some to the
gray matter island headspace of echoed sins
and carnivorous lascivious pandemonium.  
Not everyone will find what they seek on the warm beaches here,
or the raving, bubble foam dance parties in strobe light nights.
That's just the way it is;
there's not enough room for everyone in the center.

And this is where we learn to accept ones place,
because only then can we move on to another plane,
on another beach with more to learn and some to teach.