I see the birds stretch their vast wings to the sky;
directionless, disordely, chaotic.The melody of their chants anything but harmonic;
a unison of scattered moths
piercing through the Hejazi sunrise,
riding the zephyr till the midday sun overtakes;
but what can overtake
in a moment defined by serenity, intrinsically tranquil?
The disorder before, between and ahead is naught but juxtaposition
of simplicity and extravagance;
of guidance and aimless wandering;
of youthfully zealous voices echoing to scream over each other as 12 brothers fight for their father's affection; neither hither nor thither.
A moment of clarity,a dilemma!
The moon is contemplating whether to pack up and leave; its rays
drizzling speckles of illumination on a winding crossroads that winds neither West nor South,
but what can overtake.
and only as the birds resolve in their flight and coalesce with the winds of change
does their song pierce the heart and the skies become light
and the anxious Hejazi sun
takes stage right as all purpose becomes clear yet again.
