prophecies in the sahra sands
the sands whisper
as the wind carries them
far, far from scorching heat
the whispers of ancient prophecy
buried from centuries of neglect
are lifted up, up
and blown north, where they settle
a thin coating of dust
sprinkled over the hood
of a grey toyota prius
and a lonely man drives,
drives away, not knowing
his car holds pieces of prophecy
from the buried sahara sands
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