You are the deep fissure in my sleep,
that hard reality underneath
a stack of soft-cushioning illusions.
Self-exiled, even after all these years
I remain your ever-adoring captive
I register as inner tremors
across oceans and continents
the flap of your giant wing, struggling
to be free and know I shall not rest until
your glorious metamorphosis is complete.
For the love of Egypt