The sand whispers,
sliding before the wind.
Within the timeless vessel
that is earth and sky.
The Daystar is molten amber
holding endless court--
An uncommon soul
blindly passing by.

As I pass by--
the great Sphinx--
is counting her riddles.
enduring my curious regard.
She waits for the night's
darkening vail,
when cold and crystal--
starlight strands will--

stirs the shadowed wells
of her unliving eyes,
filling my cupped thoughts
like an bitter draft drawn
from stygia, a pint of obscure
arcane lore.
quenching desire
with an elemental fire

like that which hardened
her sinews and heart,
fusing her feet in the
furnace of dream-thick sands,
back when the world
was hard and small
at the center of all
that might have been.