Joint, red summits swim afloat
Amid the clouds of foreign lands
Jumbled, confused--if only Quote
Could pull them from the arid sands.
But sandstorms wipe the sacred text--
Whirling until the ink dissolves--
A spark of lightning soon reflects
The rebirth of light as sand absolves.
Turning, quick, the strike hits ground,
Flaming, popping, a splash of sound.
The wetness drips unto the sand,
Quelling the flames of newer birth,
As the clouds come quick to hand,
Cooling the sizzling, steaming earth.
Someday I dream a day will come,
When the sands of my thoughts lie,
And the clouds--too wet to cry--
Will let the fire rage, aplomb.