Half-sleep

In the desert, I see you

In the distance, but near enough to decipher.

How firm you stand in the middle of the wind and whipping sand.

My only choice is to come.

With every step, the ground shifts under my feet,

The fierce wind causing me to stumble and lose course in this vast, barren land.

The sand burns my fixed eyes…

I cannot turn my gaze, lest I lose sight of the outline of your frame (from behind you shines a glow: the only light in this dark nothing).

Uphill and down, again and again,

Falling in every valley.

I’m weary.

Still, I claw my way through the sandstorm.

At last, when my limbs give way,

My face hits the ground; I’m at your feet.

Lying prone before this tangible mystery, my fists clench and pound the earth,

and from my dry, wind burnt lips I cry

“Abba!”

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