Desert Pale

Desert storm
He gazes at the clouds
Sand on black wings of death
He prayed for nightfall not unexpected fury
The sound of tornadoes, a black symphony
To fill his mind with thorns
And sometimes there a face he calls lord

Desert sky
He stares at the moon
A hole in the curtain of night
A nomad in mind
A warrior in honour and blood

Thorn the son of wind and will
He knew he had opened the gift
All life commences and ceases under god

The wind caressed his face that night
Pneuma grabbed his heart
He shivered and fell on his knees to ride the storm

Desert storm
A red cloud of fear
Beauty at the edge of pain
He reached for his sword as the colours turned pale