The Man Who Built His Life on Sand

I was staid, somber, failed
to be entertained in the ochre
sunset, vermillion sea sparkling
on the skyline before me.

Hints of clouds rise into
the Arabian skies as distant
memories come into being beyond,
a distant realization of mistakes

once made, twice shy in the semi-
isolation of a foreign land, flanked
by acquaintance, in expatriate
paradise, a shrinking dilemma.

As world presses itself into existence,
recognized as vital, important
to the environment as trees, and
mountains in the north eroding each

and every second, like past friendships
left for dead in the void-like present,
abandoned in the heat, under gaze
of blue canopy, overhanging the chaos.

Underpinned by sand, shifting constantly
with each flicker of wind, the flame
that lights my cigarette dampened
by humidity, as the fire and the light go out.