Born from the dust,

from the ashes spreaded

ancestral vitalities

compacted in fates

cemented to life–

adopted to patterns

repeated until–new fates–

pounded and carried it drifted

and flushed, to an alien realm

wherein, this was us–

amidst them we’d walked,

through valleys of valhalla;

we’d bucketed coffins–

marked but of not–

what life we knew not–

ghosts, were amidst us;

bonded new spirits recycled

were locked, by desert homes

in which they’d haunt–crying,

howling, impish whispers

of a salty sehnsucht.