dancing in your storm
A crimson dance
red mirages covered my eyes
from the distant vision of an unknown reality
My valley sank deep into your oblivion
The skies have withered to pale milk
I scrape the skulls buried in sand
Your silent eyes speak a thousand stories
A thousand images of a thousand kings;
but in these sands they hold no glory
Only the death of a lover’s zeal
trudging the mires of unmoving time.
You are their priest
iron wrist and iron breath,
fierce and hungry;
an unloving commander.
I dream of it.
In my moments of peace
A better place
in the fields beyond the fire
Where Mercy washes our eyes
and rivers temper our burns
from the power of infinite suns.
our torn hearts mend
with the scent of Autumn.
But dreams are dust
and you sing to the sand
I’m but a faded memory
that dances to your command.
by Nasmi Hosein