You step on the dying rock and breathe me out of it’s carving.
We sit on this dying rock overlooking the valley,
floating like fetus in the thick clouds of milky mist.
The curves and bowls of green, brown and white randomness
make love to me protectively,
indulging me.
We giggle and chuckle like naked children
served in mud, to an aged, turtle like, innocence;
the mountain.
No self; our names are lost in the sweeping vibrations of time.
I touch her feet with my tongue,
and spread fresh dew on her parched, parting lips.
The buzz of ageing stopped.
Sleep began.
Death returned.
And promised children were dreamed.

I will never be alone again.
I will have forgotten to.
The birds gossip with the clouds.
The clouds gather to shiver in delight at the sight
of two lovers connected in sighs.

I am the mountain.
I am the green, the brown, the grays and the white.
I have the power to create and destroy
in one blinding flash of carnal ecstasy.

I am the black night.
I am the silver rain.
I will be your only rainbow now; your retreat of joy in the clouds.

Lose me and your veil shall fall back.
Flies shall fill it again.
Your eyes bound, lips bleeding dry, breast untouched,
and tongue parched, covered in the yellow, white reality of precious aloneness.

‘You promise to never leave? You promise to be mine?
With this magnificent valley and the soft cloudy bowl of sky as our witness
Do you love me true?
You nod yes.

If I lost you, I declare,
the silver stars would melt and fill the sky
with blinding white burning.
My cells ageing, eyelets bleeding salty black
I shall rage into the mist in search of death.
My veil shall burn forever in thin, piercing flames,
and my hand shall fist into itself, fearing to love,
and loving to love the fear.

Two million legs grabbed each other, searched and seized each other
on that dying rock.
The birds watched in sudden silence,
the mist made way to our silent screams or promises and sighs.
Forever is exchanged and night falls.
I leave the rock, and you.
You promise to follow soon. The rising sun, you will ride, to me.
I leave you my forever and the forest swallows me.

Many suns rose in other forests,
many moons mooned over other peaks.
I sit alone, perched on a rock newborn.
While all the other men, fighting other men, for land.
For land.
For land, I search your perfect hand,
hair like black desert sand.
In spite of the pain, ego-brain,
I stand higher,
But strange, I see, you never came.

An invisible cellophane membrane stood the forest, intact.
Nothing moved; only the giant leech in my stomach.
I wept mini-moons into the river
and the mist covered me sympathetically.

The butterflies uncover me now,
and my fingers paint the sky with moss and snow.
I sleep.
This is the end. I sink into the rock. I become rock.
I am a rock.
All that is left of me is the valley, the mountains,
the mist and echoes of giggles and chuckles
of little children doused in mud,
and our baby’s last breath.