Mountainside

I’m not sure what to call you… See, I’ve heard a lot about you but it seems the words must not do you justice I see what you’ve made I’ve seen and I never want to forget that feeling on the side of a mountain as it silently crashes into a valley The lichen grew on rocks so even these million year old behemoths live. I feel them Snow still lingers, an old friend at the end of the night. Keeping away the gaping spans of the universe after everyone’s gone This semblance of normalcy ties us to earth Without it, this could be another world The stream prophesies but the tower of babble already cast its curse not allowing me to understand I still listen, We must all still listen. Let me listen. I am afraid to see this every day to forget that it is magnificent to say “awesome” about something that does not steal the air I thought was free and make me pay to get it back I spill everything I’ve got on the counter because I must live I must gaze longer at this thing I could never create, recreate, destroy, and remake The sun gives us a show They say it happens every day but I cannot accept that the ball of fire dissipating into its surroundings, this crimson, gold masterpiece has ever happened without my noticing No, this is the first sunset of the first day The world is new. I see it emerge, shocked by its own existence And You. You made this. Every last atom. I am in love with You and I don’t even know your name. I can tell You made it with love for who but a lover would kiss the mountainside with blooms in periwinkle and whimsy? I know You must laugh at my glassy-eyed wonder. Sure, it’s been seen every day for one hundred thousand years but that was all the second before dawn. It was the gray-blue hues washing over creation before the first light touches the first blade of grass as it Reaches Reaches Reaches to the Everything