Kashgar, Bactra, Samarkand...

Kashgar, Bactra, Samarkand…
Oasis cities on the Silken Road,
Where the dust of the desert
Is washed away
And the spirit is refreshed.
Cities that sing the sagas
Of ancient empires.

Time moves from sunrise to sunset in the desert, the passing of it marked only by the sun. The camel bells are the only sound sometimes, even the flute player too exhausted by the heat to lift the pipe to her lips. So far from clocks, from schedules and timetables, from the daily list of things to do, the mind roams hungrily ahead to the next oasis, the next island of life in this endless sea of silence

Kashgar, Bactra, Samarkand…
Like a mantra chanted to a string
Of wooden beads, each name
Echoes in the heart,
Fills the mind with visions,
Sings the ancient ways
Into my soul.

The first sign we get that we are nearing an Oasis city is the gradual greening of irrigated pastures. The oasis cities grew up around pockets of fertile land and water. The cities are walled, but careful irrigation creates pastures where sheep and goats can graze, under the watchful eyes of their shepherds. Some of these cities have become kingdoms in their own right, and like Rome, all roads lead to them.

Kashgar, Bactra, Samarkand…
Call to us across the sands.
The stars that light our way
Have distant worlds,
On which other dreamers gaze up,
With hearts full of wonder and delight,
At all there is.