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I dreamt of a Moroccan marketplace-- Miles of Arabian Desert, Chanting voices from towering mosques, Hot wind sweeping the cries of street vendors Into my swollen ears, The perfume of fresh exotic flowers Assail my senses And I am awake.
A silent, robed figure steps out of the shadows And into the street. Eyes peer out at me from a furtive face. A hand is raised to beckon And suddenly he turns away. Weaving between carts and dogs I follow. Tall walls of sandstone Rise up on each side, Darkening the streets. Brown robes whisk around a corner; A hand stretches out to entice.
I reach the corner. Darkness envelops me. Cobblestones beneath my feet-- I am Unbalanced and stumbling. Chattering monkeys mock And I sink Into my bed.
Raghuveer
