The desert looked white. Not snow white. Gold white. Drained and morally elevated, he imagined water flowing. He imagined a child's reach for air underneath a green spiky lake. The whole weight of the lake suppressing golden locks and green sea eyes. Knuckled strength manifesting in whipped waves, frothy and alert. Morning waves. He had moved from Crow Pose into Proud Warrior Pose. His heart to the sadistic sun, loving the sun. Crying. Crying. Lifting the heaviness of the earth into Utkatasana and staying there with the pain for centuries. Heart higher than your seat. Unlike kings. Like gods.
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