At night if there is a bright moon the sands of the desert turn blue

The result is quite beautiful and it is often the last thing I see before I sleep

I have isolated myself in this simple hut as I have grown tired of the world

My hut can be quite cold at night and hot under the high white sun

But at least I am alone in my chosen isolation with only my books as friends

 

The shifting red sands always return

My hut is never clear no matter my toil

When the winds change my home is almost hidden

I fear slow suffocation but sleep very well

 

I am no longer alone

People are passing my hut in great numbers

Yet none speak to me

Am I witnessing the end of history

 

I feel that I have slept for a number of years

As the desert that surrounds my hut is mostly green

Mysterious birds circle quietly in the moist skies

And delicate perfumes bewitch my senses