Five millennium ago two young lovers lay in caressing, cooling sands
Their fingers touch, as do their lips, illuminated by a full moon
They are happy, they are in love and they are soon terrified
A Black Eagle, portent of bad tidings, is silhouetted by the golden orb
That which they have so luxuriously bathed in…dreamed in
‘Tis a harbinger of things to come and they quickly return to their mud hut
One million, eight hundred and twenty-five thousand nights gone by
A young girl of six, on precisely the same spot, now known as Angoor Adda
Prepares to celebrate her birthday, the twinkle in her excited young eyes
Mirrored in the eyes of her eighty-three year old great-grandfather
They smile in unison, displaying roughly the same amount of teeth
Outside their small apartment, the same moon that once lent semblance to young lovers
Hangs in a bejeweled sky basking the now semi-urban landscape
Unknown to the happy scene inside, an MQ-1 Predator Drone is etched upon it
Six candles are lit atop a cake and a semi-toothless mouth blows…up
Four thousand, two hundred and forty-three fragments are blown skyward
To land in desert sands that once were home of false fears and assured amity
Two hands…separated from previous attachments, land nearby, fingers slightly touching
One is old and weather worn and looks of aged shoe leather
The other is young, its creamy surface only marred by spots of fresh blood
And holding between still clutching fingers a plastic fork…bits of cake still intact
As the moon disappears below an enduring horizon, six black scorpions link tails
Surrounding two hands, fingers gently touching, and circle in a dance of death
Much as they have since before the moon sought to cool the surface of the earth
From the ravages of the sun and man’s fiery indifference
