I think it's the first time I dream of a mountain. At the side of the road. A slab of stone of sublime proportions with all the promise of the earthy smells, cut in half for a car's passing.
I was in a car. My car was the only one that could be spotted for miles.
A more detailed look revealed that it was not just the one mountain, but a mountain range.

And I waited, impatiently at the bottom, wondering whether to venture forward between such looming giants.

I had never felt this anxiety around mountains before.
No, only underwater.

"I like your fire.
It reminds me of my own...when I am less confused."

---

Forests, forests, forests.
Thick and dense, dark green leaves
that suffocate your steps.
Give them to me.

I am not apt for this life.

To Samhain

I feel my roots growing thin -
too much no-name wisdom and detail-seeking
surround me
and the ground is suddenly covered with ash.

Where are the echoed murmurs
and the bump-bump steps
and the shaky door?
The stalking smells,
the mending silence?

Has the veil between our worlds collapsed
so as to never rise again?

Oh, how lonely, very lonely these days are,
and how empty too
without the dead.

I'm always thinking about the end.

Right now,
it feels as though a huge, dark cloud
which had been hovering above my head
has been removed.
Clear, windy skies
are ahead.

Why can't I have more days be like this?

Live.
And let live.

It's all over now, kid -
take it or leave it.
You cannot carry so much weight upon your shoulders
so if you have to walk,
walk now and walk slowly
but fast enough to catch up with the last wave of shameless sea salt.

You can do this -
can't you?
All too high riding horses once
you've lashed your eyelid open once or twice with disturbed, jumpy branches.
Jumpier than you, higher than you -
You've fallen off the horse now.

How will you get home
if you have already lost your legs
to old, old battles
and your memory
to sad, sad tales?