Sleeping Under The Desert Sky
by Mark London
Beneath a canopy of warmth and silence, the pulse of the dunes begins to hum in a low, rhythmic sigh. This eight-hour journey mirrors the desert’s breath, moving from the silver cooling of the sands to the velvet depths of a midnight sky. Each note drifts like wind-sculpted dust, settling over the restless mind until the horizon of consciousness finally blurs. There is no sharp edge here, only the vast, amber warmth of an ancient landscape whispering you toward a dreamless peace. As the digital sun remains tucked away, the soul finds its anchors in the silent, sprawling cradle of the parched earth.
