Through Fire

In the desert under sandfalls

a black box speaks in acid tongues

something like electricity from its mouth

calling to the pilgrims: come worship

and they wade through fire to find it

before the sandstorms come to bury them

Distortion in the air holding back the tide

and the ground ready to give way

to go down to the caverns below

where something like ecstasy awaits

the wail of a broken voice rising

above a thousand cries for absolution

My blog

Photo by Mike from Pexels

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