The desert,
Soaked
By the gusts of wind
Which currents have caused
Sand, moist
And smooth
As if time has stopped
Letting each grain fall one at a time
Through each fiber of your finger tips
No friction,
Only descending onto the next grain
The next piece, which forms the mound you are standing on
The ocean,
Dry
By the current flowing beneath your arms,
Casting the air through every void within the waves
Every droplet hurled by what lies in the distance
Dripping upon your face,
Your body, though your cloths do not dampen
Limbs do not become cold
The air,
Still
Hear the screaming winds around
No movement in sight
A whistle behind you,
Breeze in front,
Only to catch you
Plummeting deep into the unknown,
Where the is no desert, no water, no air
Unknown,
Drifting
That is all you can do
There is no destination
No end to your journey.
All amongst you,
Is you.
Alone
With your thoughts.
With no present
No future.