I wake up after a dream
And I move out into the unconscious
That is spread out in front-
Of my window on
The beautiful desert landscape
Of the neighboring Empty Quarters
That interacts with the senses
And with the tips of tiny icebergs hidden
And ride the boats of the past
To reach the haven of future
On the waves of the present sandy moments
The oars roar with the racy vehicles
On the conscious asphalt
Senses too are conscious
Of the heat and dust and the breeze of the changing season
The dewdrops meditating on the cores of the xerophytes
And bury themselves in the subconscious
The caravans of cars and camels pass
The senses devoting
Themselves to the destination
Of the great landscape
Crossing the mirage of conscious mind
Of the great glasshouse
Splinters blaze on the sandy terrain
Waiting for the rain and rhythm
Of the tiny drops that will moisten their lips
For the voice of tomorrow
That will open their windows
Showing us the striking landscape
With a tableau of hues and dunes
That will soothe the soles of souls
A rosary that turns like a wheel of will
Merging today’s pains and tomorrow’s gains
In the eternities of space and speechlessness…
