Blowing like fall through a mountain valley, the wind is nevertheless silent.
Stirring nothing but restless animals from their dark hide-aways, knowing it’s time to sleep, yet the bright nothingness prevents it.
Slumber is a far-away thing, a concept and construct foreign to my thoughts. An invader that left heavy machinery when they took root, escaping defenses and burrowing deeper than I can yet reach.
Time stands still on this perfect vista, this sand-scrubbed landscape. Seconds tick into not, minutes whirl and crash and hours disappear unproductive. Desire un-tempered, set in stone yet a tiny crack shines forth, calling.
My name, your name.
Can you hear it? Is there room in the airy chambers of your heart for a challenge unseen?
Are you now, or have you been,
Prepared and waiting, or closed and in vain?