The night’s air is thick with wandering dreams,

where the stars lead a path

through a desert, past whispering winds and a sand-covered village.

I pull a thin scarf across my neck and follow the sky’s glittering path

as I stretch my legs along the horse and continue. 

My knapsack is almost empty, but for a half-full canteen;

my thin clothes are damp with sweat yet my skin is dry,

and the air whips my body with force as I continue the night’s journey.

I begin to lose my way,

as the melodic crunching through the sand

becomes a midnight lullaby.

I loosen the grip on the saddle and let my body shift with the movements;

the wind shaking the night,

but the animal’s body luring me into sleep.

When I awake I will find a paradise,

and the heat will only be a symptom of the journey.

When I reach a land that is gold with opportunity and the desert ceases to exist.

I murmur an Islamic verse to myself and let the stars rest on my eyelids.

I will let my carriage guide me,

past a life of swollen dreams.