What is in us that must reach the top,
that longs to look down upon the world as if a god?
Don’t we know that in this infinite space
the same rocks at the seashore know the secret of each peak?
Underneath the surface are caverns, caves
soaring cathedrals the earth has made.
What arias does she sing to dripping water, bats
and other seekers of wisdom?
What prayers echo
while the ceilings reach slowly to the floor?
The open window houses everything:
a cat lounging in the sunlight, the call of neighbors,
the breath of possibility. (poetry by Robin Walthery Allen)
|Visionary Mountains, invariant measure, fractal photograph by Marc Frantz|