A patchwork of glittering metal and red brick.
Punctuated by the lapis lazuli coloured swimming pools dotting the veritable map below
Somewhere in the urban labrynth
Is you
Laughing, loving, scowling, sleeping, breathing, being.
And I am here, hurtling above you,
Wrapped in steel and aluminum, and encased by a hazed sky.
Do you hear me? The thrum and rush of a Faraway engine, an ever gliding bird that casts the briefest of shadows. Do you stop and note the rumbling sound, in amidst the orchestra of the everyday?
You lie beneath me and I move over you.
And yet, and yet,
you are unaware, unknowing, nonchalant,
and then I am gone,
Swallowed up by the all encompassing blue.

2 am,
and the thoughts of you envelop me.
Your name is whispered in the blue dark.
Memories flutter uninvited.
The bruising on my heart has not faded.
Not yet.

The mountains whisper across the rugged earth
Echos upon echos shimmering through the millennia
A language far preceding the etchings of men, scratched into the ground.
Reverberating through the depths of rock and soil and stone.
A creaking between the roots, steeping into the mantle, and into the sky.
A silent dialogue, between the above and the below, and the within and the around.
An undercurrent that flows unheard beneath the flimsy corrupting crust of mankind,
We are visitors, and it is not our song the mountains sing.

There is a creature in the night.
It is the wind that races around street corners
And taps on your shutters.
It is the cold silent blue lurking between slumbering rooftops.
It is the sliver of pockmarked white that casts a slinking shadow
As she climbs up the black.
It is the leaves of the oak,
Whispering
Whispering
Whispering.