I am sitting on the untouched red sand dunes as the sun sets and the wind blows gently. A red and white Bedouin scarf is wrapped loosely around my head. Little plants sprout out of the desert sand, showing how there can be life in a desolate land, and how there can be hope in a hopeless situation. Hundreds of different layers of rocks extend before me into the fading horizon, each layer getting darker and darker. The light of the sun shines over the Earth, yet still fading away with every second.
The red sand emits an energy of happiness and joy, soaking up the warmth of the sun and the positive energy which light contains. When you sit in the red sands of the desert, you feel connected with the earth itself, being as close as you can to the true nature surrounding everyone one of us.
As I close my eyes, I listen for the sounds coming from this remote land. Nothing. Not a noise, just a present silence which I can feel seeping into my soul. As I try to listen and hear better, all I find is the echoing voice of the desert itself, and I realize the best way to know a desert is to listen to its voice.
The desert sings a beautiful song – if you stop and listen.
Pause a moment to take it all in, and just listen for its beautiful melody as it sings throughout the mountains and dunes. As the mountains grow, so does the magnitude and volume of its melodic silence, broken only by the sound of my pencil scratching against my tattered journal.
How many centuries have passed through these vast lands, the traditions that still seep out of its crevices? The ripples in the red sand are each a layer of time, each a legend hiding behind history’s legacy.
The desert is like a memory, the fading wind bringing it forth into the future, the forever longing past of its memories lurching in the everlasting sunset. The silence of beauty reigns peacefully through it all as I stand so small compared to this magnificent world.
Layers of mountains, each becoming more distant, as the red sand seeps into all cracks. Even into a closed heart, it brings back the happy memories of distant friends who had a life changing effect. With every minute the sky turns more yellow as the horizon is brighter. The black beetles of the dunes reach towards the ledges to get a glimpse of the vanishing sun.
The voices of ancestors of the past Bedouins amplify through the vast lands. Their sounds and chanting echo through the stones as if crying for the return of their world and not the modern one we know now. The hopefulness of simplicity regains its strength. I can see the sun set with the passing of faces who were once here, each drifting away with the sand, and I feel at peace knowing that we are all one, sharing the same setting sun.
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