Untitled

n silent waves
in hushes and whispers
the sand dunes roll over
the ages
of nothingness
from under
the camel hair tent
rushed out the sounds
of familiar voices
sitting
cross-legged
in front of the blank screen
my fingers typed out her name
Gaia
Pierre would probably think
my search is vain . . .
we go through life the way
a kiss would fade
away
in slow motion