There is intimacy with the Sun in the desert, even as those last few rays kiss the horizon you feel it penetrate your skin and feel in kinship with the heat. You mourn as they drag the light away from you only to marvel at the whisper of the rising Moon, almost full and you remember that the light from the Moon is only the Sun’s reflection. They haven’t left you, only changed forms, glowing in the dark a loving orb to guide you home.

But you aren’t going home, at least not the home one might expect. You dance in the Moonlight and marvel at the clay house that is your body, surrounded by its sister soil. “I am of this place,” you think. Animated dust wandering a rich landscape accompanied by celestial companions.