Sandstorm in the desert

Have a sip, my dear... let me extinguish thy thirst. Let me show that there is more to this desert than the sight of endlessness or the tiring pursuit of a vision that never changes, that never fades away.

Drink now... but drink it slowly for this nectar is so fresh and bewithchingly mellifluous that the feelings it invoque may awaken in such a turmoil, in such a feverish malaise that your delicate body or your for long asleep diaphanous soul may not endure its impregnation of life.

I was once were you lay - a crossroad of arid uncertainty, between the burning sun and the melting ground. Like a part of the sere vegetation, ravenous for something I could not convey. But there is life were your feet feel nothing but sterile dunes as you hound the hectic trail of joy and freedom with your brownish-green eyes hiding between the folds of the linen scarf that protects you from the sandstorm winds of saharan deception.

I too found life in your gaze, in your tanned cinnamon draft drawn against the canvas of the sand, framed by the horizon itself. Lets drink it together... I'll pour some drops onto your mouth and wait... wait for the liquid ambrosia to erase the dryness of your thin, perfect lips, to spread and bathe your tongue and throat giving you back even a hint of the stellar smile you enlighten my specter with, into materialization. If, in an ultimate effort, your faint and vulnerable body cannot bear the dainty nature of your gestures, I shall take you in my arms. I shall make use of my own body to keep you safe from the wrath of sands, from the exhausting heat of the sun. I shall drink from the vase myself and deliver its content to you with my lips, transported in the eccstasy of one loving sigh.

Nobody returns from the desert, my dear, as we will not either. Our souls will permanently rest here and in this perpetual moment, amidst the amazing magnitude of the immense, the waterless ocean of whatever else exists beyond us. Our lives will certainly go on and the world will not remain static but forever we will look upon the past and remember that all of it blossomed from the apparent stagnation, the inevitable faith of a befuddled compass. Until then, you shall have me by your side, faithfull and commited to your happyness, embracing the purpose of resting forever at the reach of a simple blinking of your eyes; expectant but fearsome, like a tightrope walker. Yours truly...