Nothing Above Thee
If desert winds stir the sand enough to pelt and coat you legs, I will cause your mounted camel to sprout wings. Stones of varying width and compressive strength have sworn an oath to cover the mouth of every poisonous den. Those things which have survived ice ages will not perjure themselves before me. Your arrival is a sentence of imprisonment for scorpions and rattlesnakes. My tenderness toward you is manifest in the painful rending of natural law. I have forced the salt flats into committee for a performance of kindness that threatens their very existence. An uproar broke out when it was known that I will prepare water lilies for you. Sprawling cacti promised to retract their needles if only to save their juice. All desert life fears the empowerment of the Nile. I will grant that old river a crown over acres of useless dust for the favor of color splashes. Why should you be tented all the day long to avoid fainting spells? My ire can travels millions of miles into the sky to sequester a burning star. You will be the first of many to witness the legal proceedings of vestigia solis. I have spoken at length with your mother about the horrible bouts of seasonal depression that come upon you. Would the desert rebel against me if I were to make the mountain low? They have enjoyed towering grandeur attracting painters and photographers. A sneer is etched into their snow capped peaks as they gaze upon the valley with snickering impunity. I would hope that they would find peace with a challenge to that centuries long tenure for the sake of doting love. You should never be without an uninterrupted horizon. Where is the pomegranate? Who is hiding the tomatoes, cucumbers, and ripe melons? All my eyes survey are dunes of infertility. Will you munch on imported dates for the rest of you life? I do not mean to make enemies of quartz and feldspar when I express a desire to trade the both for top soil. The vulture may have it's role in the system of sand. Yet they repulse you with their decrepitude. They sing no songs. They vomit acid and eat the dead. Would you not rather be visited by the musical stylings of a house finch, wood thrush, or yellow warbler? No more netting. The mosquito has conquered every tropical destination, and now they must push their expansion into this stretched of dry cracked earth? Let them all fall dead and starve every disgusting creature that eats them. All that matters is that you feel loved from the moment you awake till the moment slumber passes over you.
