Joshua Tree (Interlude)

There I was not 21, but almost There the desert sun cast shadows as its sleep began I perched atop the camper van and smiled The barren, bone-dry hues of rich magenta, baby blues Caressed the sky with subtle skill A fiery palette on the hill Inside my bag I reached my hand I searched among the grains of sand And pulled out paper, very small Would I feel anything at all? I sucked the unassuming shred And it dissolved within my head I thought I'd make a fire while I waited So I made a pile of scraps of wood to burn all night The embers swapped for dying light The desert air was thin and cool And soon like an unspoken rule The only noise was wind that gusted Whispers on the empty, dusted land I shook my head and looked around The desolation was profound And in that vacuum void of sound I heard a thunderclap resound A paradox upon the plain A lightning strike without the rain My world became the stars above They breathed, as I did Memories of my friends and family In the dark I lit a cigarette The spark became a catalyst of thought Who was I and who was I not? A boy who wonders what he missed A man who likes to reminisce A someone who might well rejoice In thinking that he has a choice in anything The fire died but seemed to still burn on inside my chest And so I closed my eyes And waited for the sun to rise