Red Desert

A darkening sky chases the sun into exile in the west, sending the sun to its daily death
I sit in a dessert witnessing this dastardly chase, a look of awe fresh on my face

The sand stands in countless little mountains, constantly shifting in the wind, shrinking and growing in an endless cycle of wax and wain
The sun, falling from grace, paints the landscape with its blood turning the sand a vibrant red as it descends into the desserts plain

The sun, in its glorious demise, choses a few thousand lucky bits of sand to inherit its light, creating a field of stars in the ever expanding plane of dunes
As this happens the wind pushes around the land in a thousand different ways, creating a sad melody of sand, a funeral dirge for the dying light, one last sad tune