BY VIVIAN COLOMBO

Fine sand,

Warm sand,

Dry sand.

I’m here speaking to you,

I’m here gazing at you

While you extended in your length and width.

I’m here 

And my heart is carried away by your smell,

By the words you evoke in my soul.

This place is called desert

But I call it meeting 

Meeting with myself

Meeting with my weaknesses,

Meeting with my limits.

My soul gets lost in this majesty,

Until it reaches the hand of the Creator.

Silence,

Pause,

Temptation…

…I let my soul feel everything,

I let my soul get naked,

I let my soul wander.

Beautiful!

My soul breathes,

My soul regains its essence,

My soul dies in this world.

Share the Story