Red sand swirls about her feet.
The desert knows her name.
Swift and lithe as a falcon's wing.
Perception is her game.
Her eyes see through the storm of sand.
Her heart can sense the presence
Of the lost adventurer's mind.
A manifestation of nature's essence.
Story faded to legend,
As legend grew into myth.
The primordial spirit watches,
Waits.
The wind begins to shift.
Oh whistling wanderer heed the sign,
As the red moon creeps
Above the peak, towards the zenith,
Beyond the mountain's teeth.
When eyes can see her shadow form,
It's too late to change your tune.
Ravenous, her ancient spirit pulls
At the crest of her mighty dune.
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