A tiny speck suspended
in the fabric of space
oscillating on the silver strand
of Faith.
Like an entity immortalised in
crystal
enmeshed, yet unknown in the
chaotic throng;
rather non-existent.
Undulating, the sands
rush forward
to meet the
turbulent horizon,
time stands still
moments reach out
for each other, calling out
in vain.
The creation of a
mirage.
The resurrection of the
classical Phoenix!

The speck grows,
defying, slowly
encompassing the certainity
of it’s existence.
Others join, some leave
in that world of unuttered
anonymity,
a windswept flame,
so tiny, a curious spark;
flickering incessantly.
The fear of darkness hovering
so very close by,
rather a dim shadow.

Unawares the Phoenix
raises it’s head
proud, complete.
Bloodshot eyes warily survey
the world, it’s pleasures
divine and
rejection follows almost immediately!
Hard to tell,
who disowns whom!

The rivers of sand
run on; the
endless expanse of blue above,
the mottled colour of
Rigor Mortis;
scorched humanity
devoid of it’s warmth
till the very end;
the spectre now
crucified
the Lamb of the
Passover!
Faceless Mukti,
reaching out!