Saturday, 19 February 2011

Mountain poem

I am the mountain, granitine, and the stream that springs from me
Draws from deeper roots than even the strong Pinaceae tree.

The water flows because it chooses, not because it must.
It comes to join the air and iron in the marriage of their rust.

My flesh is stone, my heart is stone, and stone my only thought:
And all the marblehard sun-coloured sky is my consort.

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