twelve::thirteen

The desert
is soon to bloom.
Zeniths last
but a moment,
they fade.
Births happen
every minute.
Where will
we go?
I'm going
to the desert,
the one
colored green.
Please come
with me,
we will see
beautiful things.
Winds of force
and gentle breeze,
sitting quiet
under trees.
If we have ears,
listen with eyes,
compassion shines
even in the dark.

(Isaiah 41:13-20, Psalm 145, Matthew 11:11-15)