Desert Dream from the mind of criatura


Sometimes, when a bird cries out, Or the wind sweeps through a tree, Or a dog howls in a far-off farm I hold still and listen a long time.
My world turns and goes back to the place Where, a thousand forgotten years ago, The bird and the blowing wind Were like me, and were my brothers.
My soul turns into a tree And an animal, and a cloud bank. Then changed and odd it comes home And asks me questions.  What should I reply?
words by Hermann Hesse from "Earth Prayers from Around the World"
photo by petra enhanced with PaintShop Pro


petraglyphs@oocities.com increase the peace
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