Clouds over the desert

A poem written after moments of reflection.

The rain has come
to wake me up,
a nameless guest
without a feeling.

A switch to nothing
into something.
Shaving to its

And after the rain,
a desert blue morning.
Towers of red stone,
naked before the withering sun.

I know you are here,
exotic in sand –
and stood in white.
Had it ever come true?

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