These place, these places that cut us with their ice and the sun
their wind and the rain
their silence and their sound
will fall one day like a thunderhead that has left its heart somewhere else
The diamonds we once mined for on the days when yesterdays were dying and todays were not yet born, you know what it is like to have lived a thousand lives and be embarrassed by nine hundred of them and fear they might resurface for how can one be and then not, how can one sleep and not wake, for death while living is so hard to understand.
These places, these places, how I have loved them for their pain, for if it hurts then I must have cared, and if I cared I must have loved.