in the medina

marrakesh murmurs muddy whispers from maroon walls, warped words wanting to be heard in the wind. a breath of air carries distant voices over red rooftops until they reach my ears, suggesting blurry images to match the blurry noises i perceive. i breath in the soft sounds. the noise so close i can almost feel it as it wanders through my senses, without permission penetrating my defenses. i soak in the atmosphere. i am here. and i am here to hear, to be near. now the words, the whispers, the voices and the sounds they all resound uniting into a shout so loud...i am overwhelmed. marrakesh what are you saying? your blissful bloom, your beauty betrayed by cruel confusion (all ilusion?) circlcing through my head, my heart. i wait. and as i stand there with my soul bare the sun sets and it begins to dawn on me, the mistery i see...marrakesh tells tales of life. so the keynote and the basic tint, the structure and the underlying symmetry, the meaning and the synthesis of all of this is that it is. and so am i. this is how it was meant to be, in ages past decreed: i am.