Shifting mountains subside.

The mighty heavens and earth, collide.

Through the blinding sun.

And across the dessert plain,

The passage lays claim.

With every gust of dusty storm.

An exit or entrance will the passage yield by the drooping tree?

Know sure enough you’ll be.

While striding toward the passageway.

What will the passage hold?

Only the past has briefly told.

Photo by Donald Giannatti on Unsplash