Red dunes rise undaunted,
Speckled by tufts of faded green.
Tenacity is a way of life here.
Desperation, quietly acknowledged.
From the top,
The horizon stretches, from pale to deep blue.
Insignificance reigns supreme.

A man stands on that dune
Dwarfed by the enormity,
Time, space,
Humbled in the presence of nature.
Tousled by the endless wind that drives the dunes to the limit of their endurance.
Held together by the spindly roots of those who live off them.
Roots that reach out and twine together like tiny hands,]
Grasping, bony talons,
To ensure their collective survival.

The night comes,
And a billion tiny stars
Poke their glowing heads through the curtain of darkness.
Warmth departs with the coming of night.
A coldness envelopes the man.
Numbing him to the horror that surrounds him.
Everything is equal in this beautiful desolation.
Survival all that matters.
The living and the effluent.
Night and day.

The scorching sun rears its fiery head above the horizon.
Nothing moves in this inferno.
The man's passion burns.
Consuming him in its intensity.
Taunting him to return.
Return to a place that soothes the soul.
To greener climes,
Where life grows affluent.

------- -------

White dunes roll lazily towards the cool ocean.
The soft sea breeze wafts gently across his weary features.
So far from his torment.
So gentle,
The mist like Summer Rains,
Soothe his fevered mind.
His passion still burns with vitriolic fervour,
But,
Calm ocean swells,
Like the sand dunes of his past,
Gently refresh his worn perspective.

The steady roll of waves,
Inevitable self destruction,
Fills him with a sense of being.
Focussed passion drives him to a new,
Revitalised personae.
Achievements ripple from his footsteps.
He is whole again.

The storm clouds run at the head of a great west wind.
Thunder! Lightening!
A transformation.
A desert no longer cries with desolation.
Life has emerged.
If only for a while.