far out to sea
deep in wild woods
in the crisp dawn on the high desert
there are still places it can be heard
but it takes a heart to hear
it takes a labor of love

countless miles hand to the tiller
to find that brief moment
on the crest of a twenty foot breaking wave
as a nor'easter wilds the sea
when you glimpse it
in the stillness between heaven and earth

under the bewitching stars
in the anvil of desolation's wasteland
of high desert
on the cusp of the suns imminent rise
you can see it in the broiling fire
as the edge of the world itself burns