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like mountains that push their way slowly upward
 fingers prying at the edges of frayed paper
 tongues dry from ******* hot air
 my heart beats in my neck and wrists
 and i know 

how one can cross vast plains on wheels of love 
pulled and pushed towards an end
 impossible and distant. 
how one can lay spent, exhausted 
doubting what is meagerly ours.
 counting what is lost and gained.
 living and dying as desert river at the whim of the wheel.

 like mountains moving by inches towards the coast,
 nostrils flared by the acrid smell of burning life,
 eyes red from looking and looking,
 my flesh tenses
 and i know

 how one can settle to birth an immigrant wind
 and change without knowing,
 half way home, 
the place and direction we travel.
 our name and kinship,
 perfect water. 
until the final lovely steps 
and we lay asleep in the arms
 of our past.

 like mountains falling,
 tops rounding with time,
 eyes focused on coming showers,
 lungs full and clean,
 my heart beats in my neck and wrists 
and i know. 

that this instance, this place, these hands and arms that
 soon will rest,
 shall work and make and design and drive
 and i know
 that this time was the perfect time
 to have stood with you and carved our names
 in the rock that is our history.
0
Sep 23, 2025
Sep 23, 2025 at 2:16 AM UTC
the rock that is our history
like mountains that push their way slowly upward
 fingers prying at the edges of frayed paper
 tongues dry from ******* hot air
 my heart beats in my neck and wrists
 and i know 

how one can cross vast plains on wheels of love 
pulled and pushed towards an end
 impossible and distant. 
how one can lay spent, exhausted 
doubting what is meagerly ours.
 counting what is lost and gained.
 living and dying as desert river at the whim of the wheel.

 like mountains moving by inches towards the coast,
 nostrils flared by the acrid smell of burning life,
 eyes red from looking and looking,
 my flesh tenses
 and i know

 how one can settle to birth an immigrant wind
 and change without knowing,
 half way home, 
the place and direction we travel.
 our name and kinship,
 perfect water. 
until the final lovely steps 
and we lay asleep in the arms
 of our past.

 like mountains falling,
 tops rounding with time,
 eyes focused on coming showers,
 lungs full and clean,
 my heart beats in my neck and wrists 
and i know. 

that this instance, this place, these hands and arms that
 soon will rest,
 shall work and make and design and drive
 and i know
 that this time was the perfect time
 to have stood with you and carved our names
 in the rock that is our history.
Written by
72/M/Northern Illinois
Sep 23, 2025
Sep 23, 2025 at 2:16 AM UTC
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