Desert Sands

Nothing behind the blue stains
of the months alone on that island
far from ships’ music

A pound of flesh for an ounce of bone
and a heart that breathes again

the wolves run free in the park again
explosive collars
leashed by themselves to a mothers word

An open stroll through the vacance reveals the emptiness of the promises
And yet the fullness of the wind and birds and the trees

Living inside an hourglass that turns for no-one and yet turns nonetheless

We are the desert sands that flow seamlessly to the peak of this horizon


-Ben

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