Revelation in Delight

If only there were a genie in my compass.

Revelation In

   Delight

Beneath the Aladdin mysticism, Saudi skies.

The desert stretches endlessly; I close my eyes against the blinding sands that thrust her waves of ocean sandstorm as I wander in the sun, carving a pale light of a Hollow, Dehydrated, on my skin. A Gemini compass. 

twists to urgency, spinning wildly each turn

A sign that points in no direction, only for the 

aches of some distant place, no map, no stars, a reminder of the tempest within, and

turbulence in this faint fog.

In search of meaning, I follow the dream sequence that chases the Grail, its promise.

Lost in the diffusion amidst my lament.

In shifting sands, the desert mocks my every step, while carrying by mirages in the aftermath; now holographic rains fall, each drops the beat of blood truth, and becomes a hymn; out of nowhere, a path reveals itself, etched not on the sand, but within my soul, here in this desert of endless sands.

Triumph is not the answer, but in the revelation: to seek is to live in the pandemonium of introspection.

Author's Note

Chasing the Grail would be a promise well kept.