Sinai

the wandering armies of Nimrod
find no battles to win,
seek no mercy to score;
grins, the horizon baked in glass
Sinai crawls on its back everyday

men left with claw-hammered retorts
their humor becomes their armor
sights burn in the distance, unattended;
Hope lay inverted beneath the weary:
Sinai crawls on its back every day

sands savor the Blood of Lost
specks of dust invade the senses
a slit tears open the Eye of Yahweh;
towers of hot-air rise up: a storm!
Sinai crawls on its back everyday

- © Khan Boha