Reaching over dunes in the sandstorm that is our lives <br />We pitch our tents apart, lit by a desert sun that burns the sky <br />I sleep alone, far from the disdain of cold skin <br />Once we knew each other, like a brief desert shower <br />But in the swirling sirocco stained with red Saharan dust, <br />We were lost <br />Now we are Berbers, nomads of love <br />And home is never in sight<br /><br />Guillermo Veloso<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/berbers/
