West Desert Journal by Nathan Cowlishaw

the mornings here on the desert are still,
long, and eternal
why is the landscape so barren,
and beautiful?

stories burn like the never ending past
I usually come here story hour
when Earth recites her tales
just before night when the heat sings sweet

I have found no common place
because my dream belongs to
this sea of rocks, stones, and bushes;
endless walls of grabbing beauty
and pictures painted on golden faces

when I die in my country bed
the sleeping hills bury me under their desert trees
one day walking across this endless void
will be peace within my happy cave

to my lonely fire at night,
I sing to your visions
the stars above
grow fat and twinkle
monsters are always heard
stone blood keeps flowing

never walk alone in
this world of supernatural

behind mountain doors
desert gods build palaces
Rolling thunder echoes across the land

Written by Nathan Cowlishaw