Desert Vulture

I started to write and write and before I knew it, this is what I produced.

Deserted roads are all that surround me and I look up at the blazing sun and see the truth that it is baking around me. I wish that I could once again see something that wasn’t a mirage, something that held as many truths as grains of sands in this desert that I have been traversing in for so long. I see the vulture flying over head; It has been my guide like the northern star except I know that this beacon will lead not to North but will lead me further into the abyss. But still I will follow it because this adventure is better than no adventure even though I know this vulture is constantly looking over its shoulder to make sure I am still following in step with its flight, waiting for me to trip or stumble one time, show one glimmer of lifelessness so that it can make its move and feast…I know this yet I will follow the vulture because it is all I know in this desert. I seen the same mundane dunes day after day, all leading to the same places…Yet I still walk them, hoping that things will change. I should know better by now, but I can’t keep my hands out of the fire long enough to learn the flame is bad for me. I can’t realize my ignorance until I start seeing the same foot prints in the sand quickly being covered by the winds of time. The vulture is still steady flying, hoping for the sway of a step, a sight of desperation in my face is all that it needs to continue this journey for him, the hope that he has a chance. Maybe he does, who knows. I have followed him this far, why not a bit further, why not over the next dune…and the next…and the next, until before I know it, I have crossed a thousand miles and forgotten the purposes, only knowing that the truth now isn’t that I am walking with a purpose but following this bird of pray in this desert to provide him sustenance…because that is the ultimate end process of this world; one body of life provides for another, and so the circle continues. I like the look of this abyss. The mirages are at least pretty for the time being.

[This is an original work by Lewis Tedesco. All materials are copyright protected. Materials, in part or in whole, shall not be replicated without first the consent of the original author.]