Riding out the desert storm, while trying to find my way back home, no escape in sight.
Am I destined to die in this blazing dust devil?
I call for help, yet my eyes betray me by showing a shape in the clouds. I can see a lone Indian brave on a horse, his spear aimed east and his hand waves assuring.
I travel his way, the dust settles and I am in the shade of that lone shadow on the sky. I feel rejuvenated.
Following it, I return home.
I'm left to wonder...was it ever my home or his?