Suliman, rise in the dust of the dawn,
silver wires in your veins hum the desert’s song.
Camels of thunder crawl over the dune,
their hooves print runes where the sun split the moon.
I kissed the scorpion, tasted my fate,
acid rain in my throat, yet I levitate.
Caravan of mirrors, fractal and bright—
every face is my own burning satellite.
Suliman, laugh as the cities dissolve,
we’re only the echo of drums that won’t stop.