The earth is shaking,
the sky roars,
strikes the surface with lightning bolts.
Grains of sand and wind mingle in a hurricane broom.
The ground heats up, melts, burns.

Crystallizing atom of sand under the gaping desert sun,
the rose of the sands spurts out miraculously.
With a sharp appearance, it contains a sound heart pure energy,
preserved flawlessly, tirelessly.

Together, they wander in the erg, pile up, assemble, pile up.
One
Two
Three. The transformation is complete.

The earth is shaking,
the sky roars.
Silence ! They are still sleeping…

In the heart of the desert, buried in the limbo of the golden earth,
languish the divine entities, lying in the center of the world.
From their essences life exults. In their envelopes the world is reflected.

Matter of life at the service of the wandering soul, the avatar does not exist, it is.

Three in number, the trinity of a never-ending cycle begins.
Vessels of lives, in the insatiable moment, the dust flow was, is, will be.

Avatars of the souls of the desert rose of the Sahara,
before your eyes,
sleepy they are.

Sleep immutably linked to their awakenings,
in their shells of dormant glass,
lulled by the light of the sun,
Finally, it will be time.