Eyes like torches at the gate,
this is where we’ll enter,
there are no musicians here,
just a continuous sound humming
like a buzz of grasshoppers
on summer afternoons.
I’ll bury my face in the sand,
like a camel searching out lost routes;
I’ll extend a long leg
beyond the boundaries of being – 
two torches at the gate,
and on the brow as prescribed:
“Come, enter.”
Like grasshoppers heavy with juice
we’ll leap inside the gate
where there already winds
a white lonely path.