---

As written in the booklet:

The stinging stone for air and phantoms for men

Cruel water for a tease and a steady flaming sun

Like a slow heavy ocean the tides of earth march on in

As if doors were open for the grains to stay

But in the heart of the matter

In the silence of the sand

There is no voice

No touch

Not even loss

Though I repaired the wall and carried the stones

Still the desert bleeds as if washing its wounds clean

As it needs

It happens and nothing else

As it needs

No treachery in the wall

No hostility in the sand

No conspiracy in the wind

No demands at the door

My hands do the work wrong or my tongue addresses the wrong gods

I don't know

Maybe it is not just the sand

It is simple hate eating already bleeding hands