to watch, as you walk out of the desert
which was supposedly dry before we came.
to feel the mud
smeared under eyes, so constant with tears, not happy nor sad.
this mud could live forever
you, with this mud on your hands, you vanish
a mirage?
the mind could not produce such a beautiful hallucination
i come out of hiding now, and to a sky so full of god, i pray.
only to be as close as to feel like mud.