Wednesday, April 11, 2012


I left the hut when all the stars
had left the sky
but day was yet to come.

I walked a virgin sea of sand
where lizard tracks
in drunken routeways ran.
A silent expectation toned the air.

Then she came –
a pinprick, red between two distant peaks,
then a brimming dewdrop;
brilliant condensate of orange light
inflating with a sigh of heat.

Quivering she grew;
till bigger than the distant hills
which framed her birth.

Silently untethered from the gravity of earth she rose
in bouyancies of brightness
to the surface of the sky.

Then the monochrome light of morning melts away;
colours run across the world until the sand
is a sea of yellows and gold
and the sky is an ocean of blues.

Shadows arrive, seeping up through the sand
and with deft liquid touch
etch black inks on the land.

There among curved shadows of the dunes
and corrugated shadows of the sand,
the shadow of a person stands
and mimics every move I make.

This genie of the sands may mock my moves
and yet his gnomon shadow
points unerringly to home.


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