It must have been the gloomy skies,
Or the damp wind’s caress
that announced the sudden churn of waves
So I waited for the glacier to head Sahara.

Sweat poured raindrops,
bathing dry sands, watering us.
Salty to taste, they drank it—
We gulped it down the core.

It was never the same.
For when a single heaven’s tear touched the ground,
One grain froze, and then turned into ice.
Dusts rose, like a mist of cold air, freezing the sun.

© Gheeneil


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