The day I let you in,

I explained to you how I am a mountain.

I did not say it like this,

but it is nonetheless true how my secrets are buried in the caves within me,

and it is true that many have ridden down the roads of my skin,

and it is true that I have been mined and I have been torn apart in search of something,

and it is true that I am still a mountain, unchanging and relentless.

The day I let you in, you told me you were the sea.

And see

how the love-like wind picks up your water,

takes it to me,

shakes and rattles down my tree-bones

and rock face.

See how the mud clears;

sea, how you have washed me.

See how the rain you’ve brought has forced me to weep,

a muddy colored wet that runs clear in days,

see how your hands have run, soft and dewy

over gravel rock and tree.

See how you have found the caves,

see how things are built within me.

See how I am a mountain,

sea, how you are love to me.