Burketown

is a whisper at the edge of the world,

where the sky stretches like a sacred tapestry

and clouds —those serpents of mist—

glide across the sunburnt skin of the land.

a town of red dust and thick silence,

where time doesn’t pass —it breathes.

here, ancestral knowledge isn’t shouted,

it’s heard in the wind,

in the hands that care for water,

in the eyes of those who never left.