Sand and heat

and standing beetles

dried up wheat

and bloody needles.

Straight up hats

and pointing staves

the sonar of bats

inside empty graves.

There is no walls

neither waterfalls

A gold stained tooth

in a crooked shady face

speaking the truth

of a far far far away place

A flock of vultures and their laughter

stealthily announces

the last of them to come, disaster,

that'll erase masses.

Left alone in the middle of somewhere

a bright winged pigeon

will lift his beak to speak a fraction

of left blank space in the universe.