Phantom Desert Herd

Out on the never-ending stretch of desert sand,

Feelings ebb like the air just before the rain,

Heavy clouds hanging close to the skyline grand,

Casting an equally vast and pale shadow over land,

Like a single giant footprint of an omnipresent being,

Made up of the tiny footprints of a herd of antelope,

Out there in the vastness still in the pre-storm freeing,

Huddled together in separation like fantasy and hope,

Just purple smudges against the infinite white,

Beasts of a temperament that could never harm,

Black outlines shaping the time bringing into sight,

The subtleties of the chaos disguised in the calm,

Softly the ink drops free falling in a whir of fate,

Gently punching miniature holes in the sandy floor,

A subdued rumble comes with the breaking of space,

Trickles in the foreground already telling of a pour,

The thirsty sticks and yellow skeletons brace,

It’s been a while since, since before, since,

The last blur that majestically washed this place,

Never any time exactly before any of this,

A lime neon flash out the corner in the distance,

Splits images of an utterly dry world undisturbed,

Against a back drop of a somewhere quite different,

And yet familiar through the gushing feeling unsure,

Hunters have pierced hearts here and eaten them raw,

Danced on the thick blood around red blazing fires,

Always thinning the herd knowing there was more,

That after the next cleansing death itself expires,

Bringing benevolent sunshine that promises nothing,

But the very dryness from whence it all started,

Out there in the great open there is something,

That comes back to life when all is departed…