Trials beget trials.
O'nubile maid of the Sahara, run towards
Us with mad flapping of your young breasts.
Run for trials.
Rebekah hastens towards thirsty
Camels — and trials begin.

Tabloids have ears.
Every dot is the eye of the news.
Faith and impediments waste wave-energy
For repeated runs.

Trials do not cease.
Ceaseless seasons, extended rituals,
Like the gloom of Death,
Set the spin of life.

Round and round.
Breath for breath.
Pulse for reticulation.

Extended trials.
Solomon and Daniel spread the sheet of
Judgment and lengthen the sentence of prophecy;
Their eyes, two by two, are moon phases.
And they approach seasons with careful winds.

O' loyal arms of Rebekah,
Camels have spoken in your favour.