I trace my finger along the mountains,
My lungs fill with the frozen particles.
A sphere of silence warps my head,
It’s beautiful and dangerous and something instead.

I trace my finger along the ravines,
I dip my hair in the dripping stream.
I dip my toe in the snow where I bled,
It’s cold and biting and something instead.

I trace my finger along the trees,
I’m painted in their blooming breeze.
I lie with the flowers in their flower bed,
It’s silent and soft and something instead.

I trace my finger along the mist,
My lips still line the sky that I kissed.
I watch the clouds; heavy as lead,
It’s far and close and something instead.

I trace my finger, along the rough shore,
It’s grey with fatigue, lazy and bored.
The oceans speaks, but I can’t catch what they said,
It’s constant and tired something instead.

I trace my finger along the ivy vines,
Their thin bodies grow and intertwine.
I look down at my feet, at the leaves that they shed,
It’s comforting and sad and something instead.

I trace my finger along the misted mountain heads,
My lungs fill with the blue atmosphere,
My heart fills with the sweet dew scent,
If just for a second,
Then I open my eyes and see something instead.