Fragments: Mansur of Dasht-e Kavir

And stumbling in weariness, hooves scratch on salt; behind them lay hills of red rock and basalt.
The script still in hand he did look on it then, for now his dim path lay outside the demesne
Of great Amir Sa’di who bade him this charge, his chiefly command now both instant and large:
The aid he must seek and writ message he bore, unless it arrived to Khwarezm would be war.
So went this good poet, Mansur of Nam-Gard: pen humbled, eyes forward, steed weary, and scarred.

Across the great desert of Dasht-e Kavir, crust fragile and breaking, the horse shied in fear.
Illusions of earth would confound man and beast, false flags of foundation, foretoken increased;
Salt winds struck the eyes and scoured his track; the scroll he secured and closed in his sack.
So forward and back was his trail full erased, and new roads were worn on his dried aging face;
A place shorn of words and stripped of all faith, Mansur scuffed Kavir—and withered to wraith. . . .

Into the vast tent the bare poet then met the man of great fortune to whom he’d been sent.
His knees fell to fealty, his head to fatigue; his lips cracked in whisper, denied all intrigue.
Bandaka did strip him of bag and bequests, the shah in amusement so welcomed his guests.
So found he the scroll that great Sa’di did make; Mansur saw it opened, the city at stake.
Its pages were pure now, fine inks scoured clean; Kavir’s salt is merciless, fated, foreseen.

. . . .
. . . . –what mark might now blaze—
History spent, legacies cold, parchment frayed—anchorite Arif, . . . 
Only sand now, paperless skin infinite, only . . . . 
. . . .

Words are god-like mortal avatars to wield, false and fleeting signs from fixéd death, our shield.
And Jahan knows, whether we love, shrink, or thrive, song and sword each vain, though still we endless strive.
Scar it black, Salt; wash it blank, Winds; back to Sands! Only Dasht-e Lut will take me in its Hands.
Silent prophet, know my nature evermore. This I ask now, though my words offend, implore:
God of gods named, arid ardent Vacancy, erase me now, veil not empty nascency.