Within his own image my brother searched for the Sun, but he could not stare directly into its rays and instead headed into the desert in search of water.

During the night the desert sat still and shimmered like the fourth hour of life after birth, enfolding and unfolding in an eternal ripple induced by the juice of the cacti tree. The days took there toll on his mind as he drank the juice of the cacti tree and chanted the song of Sun-Lam in order to ward away the lost spirits of the desert, those who saw the Sun's rays but did not believe we created God in the Sun's image. The Sun became a mirror of the dunes and many trees sprouted in the distance before my brother's eyes, situated at a mesmeric oasis— a blessing for his faith and resilience.

"Do not cross my path, for I am a tree that grows without water!" Thus spoke an etheric voice tangled in the mystery of the sand dunes. My brother stopped upon hearing the voice and fell to his knees, and then onto his stomach. Finally, he rolled onto his back, burnt by the Sun, but crowned, so to speak, by a crescent Moon.

Many months later I found him dead before the sacred tree that had spoken to him, finally at peace. His ******* were rock hard due to the dry heat and I did not bury him as the sacred tree forbade it. Instead I was ushered towards the oasis, for I had not chanted the song of Sun-Lam during my journey and therefore I was not permitted to give my brother a proper burial.

At the oasis I danced and ate such delightful fruit on the banks of the fresh springs, and although my brother had died, and had never found the water that would connect him to God— the true God who dances within the eyes of those who stare into the Sun— at night I could see him smiling down upon me from the stars, so happy was he to see me upon the water's edge.