Arid air I breath;
dry bones yearn for movement;
desert sands burn.
Words no longer drip from my tongue.
Words from beyond are scarce.
I wait in barren time;
I wait. . .
Hope is thin like thread;
still, it holds me.
Presence eludes me – imperceivable;
still, a secret conversation stirs within – imperceptible.
I close my eyes;
Breath –
a prayer forms like dew. . .
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