Untitled [Meaningful Mediation]

Meaningful mediation
Is my purpose here, desert, here,
My god tells me.
Translation, affluent with arbitration,
Is shifted with the desert sand
‘Neath the dry sun and foot.
Taunting winds carry truth, dune after dune.
I squint in the bright light.
White universes cry out in the instant
They sting my face then fall
To be buried with shame of defeat
No tears are shed for these
Particle truths, sequestered without triumph from the wind.
Tears are dried here in bold temperatures,
My god tells me.
For I, in the flesh-searing heat
Bend and reach out my chapped fingers,
A handful of sand.
Gluttony for truth is not rewarded, my friend.
For I fall in the dunes
Groping and swimming amongst my enemy which I now help
So gravely to victory.
They have not lost yet, for I breathe
Inhaling the white reflections.
My fingerprints blown under from sight
Contempt stirs in my lungs and I cry out,
But my words collapse to coughs
Of dry humorless desire to unburden.
The representations of where I have planted foot
Dissipate in the wind’s warriors.
I turn and cripple to my knees
My God scolds me while I watch in vain.
I close my eyes and declare war upon my masters!
I denounce them in desperation to relinquish my burdens
Little white universes blister my face
As victorious Wind blows and smiles.
A low billowing laughter fills the air
And truth becomes but a whisper, a hum
Lost in sound, Lost in translation.