I am the flowery city with its spanning urban neighborhoods.
I am the narrow and winding road beneath the starlit night.
I am the rolling dry hills growing with sagebrush against my side.
I am the desert lakebed toward which we drive.
My terrain is dusty and ancient and white.
I lie under the bluest of skies.
I am the daylight hours.
I am the bulging red disc of the sun
That rises against the red horizon.
I am the warm alkaline soil of the lake basin.
My worn body’s heat rises in the midday sizzle.
I am the frying pan into which we have fallen.
I am the swaying temple chiming in the wind.
I am the lost souls drifting in the air
Hoping for a prayer to save them.
I am the moon looking down on the cold sand
Where the revelers roam.
My shadows span far and wide.
My body is dusty and old.
I am the orange earth that rises stark in the sunset sun.
I am the silhouette cast against the half-light.
I am the swooping ravens that fly low on the valley
Before the mountains beyond.
I am the land where a cry of rejoice is hailed to the sky
To announce that another day has surrendered to the coolness
Of the jet-black night.
I am the lilac and majestic mountains that embrace
The white desert within.
I am the starry night sky that chills the earth
Until a new sun rises.
I am the dancing constellations.
In my movements I repeat the tales of old.
I am the dance of the heavenly creatures
Until once again the chariot rises over the horizon
And devours the night.