I held my breath as I watched you wander that dream world desert sifting gold from tawny sand, swirling your fluent hand through the eddies made by the foot prints of lizard and coyote. I waited for you to discern my tracks from those of the nibbling brush deer, my padding path across your memory. And soon a tool of bone inlaid with soft turquoise finds your fingertips. It is etched with stories of cyclic clouds and there is a great wave of blankness for the time the waters last came to me. My vision set you in the singing sand where you began to hum with the vibration. Painted on a cave wall in tones of red I rode the trance of the ancients. They said when the tingling of two rises through Hesper's haze and drifts past the dog star silently howling to it's desert brothers then, this melding of melting singularity merges to form one tree with roots stronger than time, reaching down into the tears of the earth to pull up water in the dryest times. What a strange, strange world you spoke to me-- rustling voice through crackling leaves. I will make an offering of sandalwood at the trunk of this tree just as the first rays of morning break over the eyes of the horizon.