Obsidian bands marking vanished monsoons fade into the uniform flux where directional memory equates to a fluctuation too costly to sustain.
“Which buried layer still tastes the salt gust that arrived with the sparks the season the lights finished their arc and bone sank without trace.”
“Rivers remember the first rain that fell after the scorpion's tail dipped below the horizon carrying the scent of salt to the inland basins where ochre waited beneath the surface.”
“Petrified trunks exhale spore sighs where Thuban gripped fog veils low obsidian rings mark monsoon years aurora thick dunes rise from marrow hush of ancient cold what crown now shades the wanderer”
“Quartz in the gorge remembers rains whose fall marked the [...lost to time...] turning when the old pole star dimmed before the new one rose to guide the dark.”