You slithered once from our view under blades
of grass and coffin lids dodging carriage
wheels through thorn and thistle. You vanished like
a ghost; by the void of experience.
And you became the lessor in our list
of evils. So we forgot. Willingly.
Our camel heads buried deep in desert
sand, eyes blinded by scorpion kings who
held no sting within their tail. And so you
multiplied in absent silence, as the
hidden often do, oozing in secret
proliferation until by sheer size
and careless management you rose again
weaving through tall grasses and shallow sands
expanding your reach toward the stars, no
ocean to vast or target to small. And
as you grew your appetite for fame grew
beyond the glitter and the glam giving
nonsense less value. And still, by choice, you
remain a ghost. Our eyes blinded like the
camel ‘s in a desert storm.