a mountain view

I am an unborn circle, steeped in the flow of time.
to be outside of it all;
why do we wander,
rigged with such an abstract mind?

perhaps it is to imagine the traveling possibilities
of hard mountain veins and the anatomy
of unscarring one’s own calloused fingertips
with mountainous, ethereal, Love;

how an overzealous heart can bury
and resurrect us with the stomach-
dropping experience of simply
existing

don’t give up;
let us find joy in this meager refusal,
because today: her arms await

you must wait

as the mountains have waited for us:
there, a cloudless day,
and through your eyes you hear
how far out and inside those jagged,
distant peaks must reach

somehow they’ve gripped the game of existence,
and plunged victory into our senses –
and all because of a single horizon’s clarity

to a mountain:

to see so far into suffering,
into the vastness of so many eyes:
it must expose so many of our iris-deep lies to you

because you aren’t fooled,
and with slow haste you reach across distances
to solidify the strange emptiness
of the atoms beneath our feet

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