The Desert & The Future

Speak to me Stallion 

Talk to me on these notions
Of why you are so black
Of why you wear no saddle

You are running
From so far away
Do you run to chase me?
Do you run from the vast storm crest above you?
Or are you chased?
By the vision of a cube
And a ladder leaned upon it?

I have seen them too
The Cube
And the Ladder
They are no figment
But they degrade me
And bestow me sad arsenals of lonely void

Do they haunt you, like I?
Is the cube rotten... hard and heavy in the sand?
Is the ladder untouched... separate and erect by nothing?
No. Yours are leaned and beautiful, I know.

Then why do you run?
From the storm crest?
To me?
Or is it the Sun?
Ah yes, the Sun, I know you see it beyond me

It has offended me, the Sun.
I turn my back for it.
Does it not offend you?
That you run to it, right past me?
Think me no fool though, trampling friend
It is hot, and after all, still day

Can I slow your pace, Stallion?
If I set ablaze this bleached desert with Red Carnations
Grown from tyranny of the rotten cube
Inked with its sacrificed blood
These carnations are sweet
These carnations are beautiful, I promise you
Could I slow your pace?

It is all making me laugh, this play
Do you not see it?
This desert tells our Nows - you see a Sun
This desert tells our Futures - I see a Storm