With daggered rays,
The Sun – selfish solicitor of sanity,
It taunts, It steals,
Moisture from my mouth, from my skin,

Step.
Breathe.

Sweat, the noble soldier – arises, LEAPS,
into action.
Brimming my skin, it reaches the surface,
and disappears.
Grows wary of the violent rays,
Evaporates.

Step.
Breathe.

The shade– protective father – it shelters me,
from harm,
But I must finish my hike, my adventure,
Alone.
The shade whispers that he would like to come too.
I respond:
“This is a journey I must make without you.”
And so I go.

Step.
Breathe.

And at the moment when I can walk
no longer,
And it seems only the Raven will know my fate,
I see it. The spigot.
It draws me over – promising water,
Life.
And I, in turn, draw from it.
Nothing.
I speak to it – my sweet dry breath caressing it, pleading...
Nothing. Dry.
Dry as the sand holding it in place.


And as I collapse,
And surrender myself to dry into leather and crust into dust, dirt, and sand,
I feel a hand
Press upon my back. “Step. Breathe,” it whispers.
And so I do.