Seated on grass the lake before me
Waiting for night to fall and stars to follow
Anticipation, a red pillow and a mat.

People around me not too close
Amidst caves made of tree canopies
Search for twigs and logs, light bonfires

Someone is playing the guitar.

On sand you stopped in front of me
Asked if I indulged in smoking pipes
Small eyes round spectacles a curly red beard.

You sat next to me preparing chillum
Began speaking of prophecies and lives
You lived prior to this one.

You had been tortured, you killed and died,
You resuscitated to incarnate
A prophet to fulfil a prophecy of your own.

You laugh and cry as you reminisce.

I did not recognise your face,
Nor your name, though the way you spoke
Was familiar, reviving a distant past

And I knew, I had met you before,
You sang the blues your voice was black
Your sweetness remains intact

Albeit ten years drowned in the river of time.

You watched the lights fall little dots
From Earth merely as large
As the tear streaming down your cheek

I caress it, wipe it into a smile
Your irises twinkled you kept me tight
Exchanging intimacy, human tenderness

You gazed at me as if I gave you precious water
An exhausted pilgrim endlessly roaming the desert
Through your exodus I quenched your thirst.

You slept in my tent.

At dawn we watched the sunrise I realised
You gave me precious water too,
Dazed and grateful I bathed whilst daylight

Returned you to your madness.

[Featured photo: Lake Martignano, Italy]