I don't know my name.

I came through the dusty, wind suppressed desert; far away.

I got my footprints burnt on the hot particles of earth-grains,

I seek this boisterous  but lonely city with no name.

Each pilgrim  met, was startled at my stutter- less description of such an ostentatious city; spellbound and earnestly awaits  its name,so  with kindness, point the way.

'The city has no name' ,from my lips escaped.

Disappointed, they swallow some sun flies,shook their head care freely, and walked away.

The constellation of stars danced in my eyes  when a pilgrim attempted to tell the name:  If they could  tell the name of this city with no name.

Everybody asked me to ask somebody.

Somebody knew someone from such a realm called nobody.

I sprawl like a traditional adire mat on which a maiden kneels betrothed to uncertainty as she exits the peninsula of tolerated childhood fairy tales:

Tales of  a happy  sojourn into that love clustered euphoria of fulfillment,

into the vacuum of personal space and spacelessness.

Somebody said the  city lies somewhere, hidden  everywhere.

Nobody said somewhere is nowhere.

Could  nowhere  be somewhere?

I met the last of an unknown gloss bearded kind with arms akimbo. 

He knew this pristine, flamboyant  city without a name,

He, engrossed in my story, ecstatically asked for my name.

As I was about to enthusiastically spit out a form of constructed alphabets,

My memory fell apart,

I don't know my name.

He ate dusts in milliseconds, sniffed my floating brain , screamed in disgust and flew away.

I still don't know my name.