all photos by Makropoulos
In the desert,
I forgot my name.
I was no longer
Makropoulos,
no
longer
my other name,
no longer
a person with profession
and rank;
I was just
,
grateful for the opportunity to mingle
with dust
and rock
and heat.
I did not write there,
I had no words -- the blue
of the sky
and the ever changing hue
of the earth
became my only word.
And I felt an absolute
contentment to be in awe,
and utterly overwhelmed
by the earth we live on.
Comfort can be found from simply knowing
one's place.
1 comment:
Now I'm going to have that song "I've been through the desert on a horse with no name" running through my head all day.
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