She walked alone, bare footed and hungry into the depths of desert, the desert who holds our secrets, the same desert that once told the most profound stories.
He walked alone but clothed and fed yet no sense of direction wondering aimlessly into the richness of the Arabian Peninsula.
She focused on the stars.
He focused on the darkness of the night.
She beheld up to the sky.
He scrutinized down at the earth.
And each night, as the night would fall, and the brisk breeze of the dusk would gently fall, touching them ever so tenderly, he’d remained to be in despair.
He watched her from a distance, from within the reserves of his tent until curiosity engulfed him and he sauntered toward her and asked.
“How is it that you are forever smiling?”
“Because there are somethings far beyond the garments on your back and the meals you indulge in and the gold you keep. There is all of this.” She points into the wisdoms of desert to the stars and the moon.
“You are but a madwoman, you truly believe in the stars and the sun? That, it is them who feed and protect you?” He laughed.
“No, not the stars and the sun, I believe in the one who created the stars and the sun. You see there are beautiful unbelievable truths to this world you just have to allow your eyes to see them.”
He sat next to the girl and removed his cloak of ignorance and observed the cosmic night and cried.
“But all I see is darkness.”