Three Days

 

 Three days without water,
   the Sun, hair in your eyes
  or anywhere, or everywhere else.

 Three days is time enough
   to dehydrate, to move, to set fire.
  Enough to remove totems, obstacles

 to construct one perfect shrine
   and move it to your closet.
  Three days is a desert and one canteen

 a compass and knife. No maps
   are needed, only a false sense
  of direction; anchors into the Earth.

 The mirages will come and go.
   Don’t mind them. Do remember, though,
  three days will not give back any days prior.