The sun shines where mountain crags hold magnificent pine trees
Whose strong limbs hold wafting awns,
Home to many singing birds

The forest floor gives and cracks underfoot
The fresh and sharp scent--
From that glinting sap
In the morning sun

Life is bound on all sides by a crashing light
An impenetrable boundary forcing you to a finite sum
You are fine with this--
You will remember this trip, this place
Until your ends start to fray
You make no desperate offers to death
And require no souvenir
From this place