Rumble, o, wave-warbled

Clang metal long off!

Rising to meet the murmur

A rumour of the dark tide

Come now in all fullness

To preside its description

Of the future's

High-harking horizons

And what shapes could hiss

Out the soul of the desert

And shake the shimmer-warp

Sand

Beneath our feet?

Through the long wind

Of a windless night

Through and down and up-raised

In the arcs of sound

What wash us

Winging over the thrum

Keeping time with us

And us in time in turn.

- words by Kwasu Tembo