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>Unaware that you are a dream, your shadow entices you >here. >Unaware that you are a dream, she traverses the skies >hanging >by delicate threads of multi-coloured silk fabrics. >A parachute of life skimming the desert sands below. >Your shadow seeks your soul and bleeds it dry. >Swifter than a wind of change she seeks you out. >She needs you because you are her life, her reason to >be. >You make love with her in a Bedouin tent >laying back on a bed of jewel-coloured cushions >embroidered >with sequins and mirrors and edged with tassels. >On the walls of the tent hang rich tapestries >depicting mythological gods in compromising positions >(Looking at each other as she looks at you now). > >The desert knows you are a dream >but your shadow does not, despite her desire and >hunger. >Her lips frame your name. Her hair is as black as >night. >What an image she conjures up! You are her aim; >the need to envelope you within her core. >Unable to see the need that you also possess. >Such gasps you arouse within her, >like a momentary ceasing of the world in time. >Her scent quickened merging with golden sands, >or the intoxicating oasis of your love. > >Then she falls exhausted and spent amongst scattered >cushions. >She dreams wrapped in your love, your dream, your >bedouinne, >She wants you as her dream. >She wants you to want her >as she wanders through the desert riding your dream.

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