the desert and the sea: love letters in the sand


Spontaneous words sent to a friend a few years back came to my mind most suddenly, and I got the feeling to read them over.  Looking at the date, it was just over four years ago.

Winds have always moved me, yet, it is often the invisible crosswind that decides the direction.   Fact?  I don’t know; wind, for me, is entirely subjective.  As is direction, which depends, entirely, on where we are.


Sent: Tuesday, April 8, 2008 10:16:38 PM

the desert spoke to the wind, one day
saying he enjoyed what the wind wrote in his sands
the wind was silent, only a tiny petal of a small flower hidden inside rough thorns moved
the sea was clear in its stillness and the clouds and the sun and the moon could all see vividly the passionate embrace of the two manta rays in the depths of the waters
the wind took her breath in her hands and using the sharper edge, she traced lines,
in the sand; she took one grain into her hand and gazed into its core with love, seeing the creation of the earth and the planets.
letting it fall again amidst others,  she took another and saw beginningless and endingless,
in another, one moment stretched as eternity, needing no moment to follow it. 
the desert stretched his arms, and on the edge of the horizon, the sand dunes tumbled
with every word, she said, my breath caresses every grain, like it caresses every slender branch it moves against so gently,
or the tiny petal still clinging to the small flower amidst the thorns, slowly coming to its momentous decision to
let go and fall gently towards the ground
where it will rest for some time on the grain of sand that holds all beings, before being
gently swept away to be caught, in another world, in a spiderweb beyond the desert,
bedazzling a small grey toad with its fervent rosiness.
when she writes in the sands, she said, the breath of love passes from grain to grain like
a sensual touch passes through the body from skin to nerve to the very center of the body then radiates outward
breath is the gift of life and love is the gift of the breath, the wind is the movement of breath in that love that is all things
and with that the wind moved,  and sending grains of sand cascading through the air, she embraced the desert that was everything and nothing,
and moved away to draw with her breath, waves in the seas, the waves spread through the waters like the touch of a loving hand,
the manta rays came closer together, the seaweeds above them swayed with the movement of love hiding them from tender eyes above.
on the other side of that endless universe, a small wave eventually reached a distant shore. 
slowly rolling up the bank, the wave spread itself over the edge of that desert shore and
giving it a kiss, let go, disappearing between the grains of sand. 
the desert remained everything and nothing, silently holding space in
 infinite swirls of sands, as the touch of the wave lingered on his shore, before
melting and falling back quietly into the waters, taking one grain of sand with it, which became, eventually,
a dazzling pearl inside an oyster, spending an eternity under the sea, before rolling back one day
onto the banks of that desert shore, as the wind breathed and again love moved.
my universes keep running at the speed of light recreating themselves and even the certainties change, then change back, all pretty miraculously,
life is, it is, as you kind of said once, and it is,
every day is a new wonder compared to what was the day before, so that i am not sure anymore that each day actually follows the other,
but i look forward to days where the speed of change slows down so that
the fall of the flower petal seems uncertain, the snowflake might pause above the temple to admire the view
.(end of letter)