It’s burning man season!
Every year i tell myself ‘I won’t be coming next year, for sure.’ And yet so far, I keep returning to that place. Desert people! Furry, dusty, messy, sexy, shipwrecked coconut-hearts: I decided I won’t be coming home this year. So I wrote us a little poem:
Blow a warm dusty smile my way
On a Saturday, when the fire dances and Man falls down in flames,
When blazing ashes rain down on the thousands of you.
Blow a glittery silent kiss my way
On a Sunday night, when all your whispered songs in the temple fly up,
To the wishful fire-lit skies.
Do hug the light, and the night,
And that fire-spitting mean-old octopus,
Scream at him for me:
‘I’ll see you next year!’
Maybe I’ll have goosebumps,
Maybe pink flamingos will come flying by,
And maybe they’ll have some coconut ice-cream..
My third burn. Moments in photography 🙂
Photos worth a thousand words. That sense of freedom, of expression, anonymity and yet community.
It’s dusty, it’s dry, hot, cold, it’s full of love, and we keep coming back to what we make into and love to call ‘home’.
The Fire Conclave
‘Welcome Home!’ is my favorite greetings of all! It can do magic.
One big candle for gathering us home year after year, a happy new burn!
Happy New Year!
And a desert flower, sending love.
I mixed a couple of songs together, shook the whole thing and here’s what I got. Oh yes 🙂
Welcoming the 70 beautiful tribe, stumblers, burners, travelers on my online journal & blog Caravan Dreams.
Nobody senses purity and innocence as quick as the devil,
and nothing keeps life so fresh but the peace of a burning heart.