Fathoms of your kisses float on my fingers.
Water lilies sleep on green lips of hidden lakes.
Leaves of poetry murmur in a willow tree.
Ripped apart by the gallop of an Arabian horse the night bleeds.
Sand and blood. Memories of the forgotten breath of our Sahara: the Sahara in which fate played games.
Spaces, times, light crawl upon each other like flapping fish in a net.
The enigma of “to be.”
The simplicity of me.
image: S. Splajn; Shutterstock; [link]