A Glimpse Of Me
A few years ago, when I was traveling about the country, I wrote this as sort of a memoir. I was traveling through the desert between two small towns in the middle of Arizona; around a small town known as Prescott. The desert is so vast and yet full of life and I very much enjoyed traveling through nothing, but at the same time everything. And so, that is what gave birth to this poem.
The night offers me a cool breeze while the moonlight spotlights the winding trees. The scene serenades my mind to ease. I've always enjoyed the pleasures of the night. The fainting lights and neon glows highlight my every imperfection, while, in all of one moment, silhouettes passerby's and anyone within the bounds of my periphery. Not in the desert though. Light hardly yields a shadow, unless the moon is out. It's beauty just the same as any cityscape, from a photographers point of view. It's quaint landscapes grown dry with small trees and cacti sparsely placed. Back at the hotel, I'm welcomed by silence most late nights exhibit; unbroken by train, motorbike or car. Nothing pierces the sound of silence, and in the middle of all its brilliance stands a troubadours silhouette, the figure of which, resembling my own.