mundi mundi

Red dust, raw. 
Sunburnt by 10, 000 sizzling summers?
Or recently spewed forth, fresh from earth's molten womb?

Red dust, raw. 
It'll rub us dry, dry. 
Suck out all moisture from lungs, skin, plants, dead birds. 

Red dust, raw. 
Stretching out, out, out to the sun. 
Willy willies spinning, waves arising, 
Rushing to engulf with choking darkness. 

Red dust, raw. 
Harsh earth, harsh god, 
so atheists tell us. 

But they are ever blind
To your streams of living water, 
Running, rushing, to cool baking desert. 

Red dust, raw. 
Real. 
Alive.