She just stood there, blushing. She tried to fake a smile and pretend that all was normal, but she was far from convincing. She was in a kind of lusty daze, feeling so aroused that practically any touch was liable to push her over the edge.He couldn't help but blatantly ogle her bountiful chest. But he was still trying to act cool and collected so she wouldn't freak out and he'd get to continue to enjoy the view. With that in mind, he asked again, "Mom, did you hear me? I said, what's for breakfast?"She came out of her lusty and frightened daze, at least partially. "Uh ... oh yeah. Waffles. Waffles! Belgian waffles! And ... And cinnamon toast." She was so panicky that she practically shouted that.His pulse was racing crazily, just like hers, but he was doing a better job of hiding his excitement. He said, "Cool. Thanks."Another awkward silence ensued. He felt bad for his mother and her great embarrassment, so he decided to address the elephant in the room. "And by the way, I want to. What music is this? If you flew higher, toward the sun where stronger winds blow, perhaps you would see other people walking on drifting sands. But why does your eye come back to the man and the woman, to those who lie on drifting sands warmed by this distant sun. Beings not unlike yourself: lost to time, lost in shadowed recesses within ever-shifting dunes, lost to their past and beholden only to a vague future. Would you see these people as something set apart, would they seem as eternal as the soothing currents that wipe the sands of their patterns? Oh! Do they so obey? So calm the man and the woman seem from where you stay – stay on high in the music of spheres. It is almost as if they have been cut off from the rest of the world, and still you would understand. You see the timelessness these two offer the world around them – timelessness as a measure of redemption – for in their passage across the sand you would find the gift offered to you, to every god. What would surprise.
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