I wonder how men dream out their religions. Is it the harsh climes in severe terrain?
I love the desert
that causes men to dream out their religions.
One can gaze into the endless infinity
And hear the songs of stars.
A sand grain holds its meaning here
I am but a snap shot passing
This singing breaks for a moment
And I hear a Jinn approaching
We traveled a while
then stopped for tea
and shared our secrets
He whispered words to the silver night
Moon silently chases away the stars
Who hide in embarrassment at
the power of reflected light
Do they know they'll burn out soon
Leaving the Jinn and the approaching
men in blue?
Who wrap their faces and crown
to bear out the wind's blight
to have refreshment in the desert
With Spirit, and tea for two