I Stare at the Beauty of the Desert, and Wonder if it is Real
I sit and stare at the beauty of the desert, golden needles wet with dew, red rock shimmering in the early morning sun, and wonder if it is real. I look into the sky and see the billowing legions of white, thick and inviting yet with a fuzzy, bluish edge, and think that it is not real. I nuzzle the neck of Maya, whose beauty matches the desert and who has come to help me see, and know that it is not real. Sign in to see full entry.