A dance in the dune of mystery, sand peeling skin wind playing droplets drying abandoned hair, absurd waves prance as horse spirit thieves the long and slow beginning of the end, moonlit emergence stars crashing into view, a magical tracer.
Comets field the sky, strobes of my eyes resting forth into oblivious regions and extreme unknown, that’s somewhere else, a mystery, a show matters not. The mass that makes the night I lie down to sleep as the sand casts over me, the wind like the spirits shadowing me home to rest. Mason Cult.