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