You think you are looking for me, but I am looking for you

My brother builds a fire. The stars greet its sparks as equals, 

light years apart, saying we will stay up all night watching, 

watching as you sleep somewhere, enfolded unaware in the 

blanket we wrapped around you with our minds as if in ceremony. 

We will travel before dawn comes to this desert. Tracking you.

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Wind shuffles your tracks as a chaotic sand painting; your distant scent, 

mingled with the sweat of a thousand others who know nothing of your 

direction. The wind says you are lost and no one knows. So now—we 

track what you search for, the shifting shape of desire and its flight. 

We go by night, scenting still, a map of the unseen world in our minds.

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How futile is it to cling to the face of this rock once you’ve fallen? 

After all, poetic death is priceless. Or would it be death? What if you 

could fall like a leaf, or an outstretched wing, down into the world below? 

Then, it would be creation, it would be birth. You would separate the roots 

of the atmosphere into night and day so that conception and thanksgiving 

would happen again and again, seed become light, the tree of the world 

above, reminding you of itself. This is why you let go. Or rather, jump.

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Follow the river when you find it, don't let it stray from your path! 
Listen to our thoughts; not those that close in to unravel your way, your 
power, beauty. Don’t die of slow thirst, don’t let them tear you apart 
when they find you. Stay alive! Keep running till you catch this scent!

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We built this fire waiting for you.

We marked the trail with pollen bright as middle daylight.

We wait for you behind this wall of water, drums in hand,

playing songs of secret homecoming.