Summit

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.