Before the drought

You breeze
Please take the seeds of my poem?
And stretch it
Like a water filtration machine
Over the desert of dreams
To halt the march of the drought
I see drought marching
I see sands moving
I see birds falling
I see foggy mirrors
I see shapeless figures


Oh my dear!
Let me mount the horse of longing!
To travel to the pristine source
To cleanse my muddy soul
And rest under the shadow of my home
Before the drought!

Oslo.27.07.2013

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