in the desert

Foto di Wolfgang Hasselmann su Unsplash

Every uttered word
Resembles the best part of me.
Every deed I do,
fulfils
my path
with golden petals:
some of them creak.
They are the ones hiding under the ashes,
They are crumpled
To find warmth.
Every uttered word makes distance and emptiness.
Back turns to diversity,
faces hold back.
Every deed I take
shades into a distant shadow.
Mirages might be mean in the desert.
I am thirsty indeed.