Quiet steps
on broken earth.
The dirt crumbles


my feet.

Darkness fades
to shades of red.
Blood drenched horizons loom.

I call your name.

The winds howl.
The sand stirs.

Nothing but 
terracotta sky.

Posted/Updated on January 30th, 2019
Originally published on July 17th, 2017

One of my most haunting dreams was that of The Wasteland. Several years later I had a follow-up. Where in the first dream I was walking with 2 others, I was now all alone. Endless walking with nothing to be seen for miles. But the sky was not brown-gray but blood red, or rather, terracotta. But I knew there was someone "out there" -- I just had no idea who. Surreal.

Of course, dreams often lead to poetry. Thus this entry from 2017.